Splinters
by TKeiraLea
Summary: This is a short story placed at the end of The Swarm War. What happens to Jag after the end of the war?
1. Man Down

Title: **Splinters**  
Author: T'Keira Lea  
Timeframe: Post-Dark Nest Trilogy  
Characters: Jagged Fel, Jaina Solo  
Genre: Canon speculation  
Keywords: Jaina, Jag, Dark Nest  
Notes: Wraiths hibidity dibity challenge for their Commander and Chief  
Summary: This is a short story placed at the end of The Swarm War. What happens to Jag after the end of the war?

Disclaimer: Lucasfilm owns all the rights to Star Wars. I don't. No infringement is intended or profit to be made by me.

**SPLINTERS**

**_Man Down_**

"_Command, the last of the bugs has been cleared from the scope. Twin Suns awaiting new orders._"

At the sound of Jaina's voice trickling over his earpiece, which he had kept eternally tuned to her personal frequencies during the past month, Jag had to fight a smile. He managed to conceal it well enough by the time the bridge control officer looked his way.

"Your orders, sir?" the fiery-eyed Chiss asked.

"Tell Ja–Twin Suns to come home." He must have been more tired than he realized. The slip of the tongue was unusual.

"Come home, sir?"

"A _human_ expression," a familiar Chiss voice answered from behind Jag. "Do as you are told, Lieutenant Tanadahl."

The control officer quickly swiveled back to face his station, but not soon enough to hide the hard lines exposing the shame of his rebuke. "Twin Suns Lead, your orders are to _come home_."

"_A girl rarely gets so lucky._" Jag could hardly recall hearing such pure, unadulterated happiness in Jaina's voice. Not that he got to hear her voice often these days –

"Colonel Nuruodo reporting to relieve you, sir."

Jag glanced sideways at his Chiss friend, who offered her best officious bow. He leaned forward and said softly, "Am I being admonished like Lieutenant Tanadahl, Colonel?"

"Of course not, _Ambassador_." Shawnkyr's eyes twinkled like Chandrilan wine pouring from a flask. She was right, though. He wasn't a command officer; in fact, he held no true rank on the bridge. But as always when the fighting became heavy and dangerous, he had assumed a leadership role. Command was where his heart lay.

"_Twin Suns on approach vector to_ Rising Storm. _Requesting berth assignments._"

No, Jag's heart had made its bed somewhere far more fulfilling than any command he could ever be offered. Suddenly he was very grateful to his dear friend for giving him the opportunity to take his leave, and even more so, he was eager to take it.

Jag stood ramrod stiff, trying his damnedest to look like an ambassador who had just won a war and not a man who couldn't wait to fall into the arms of his lover. "Comm me if there are any problems."

"I most certainly will –" Shawnkyr placed a hand on Jag's back and ushered him to the far side of the bridge, out of earshot. "– not, _sir_."

Jag arched an eyebrow. "The Granjanjin Resistance has not accounted for all its cells. There is the possibility some pockets of fighting may erupt."

"Duly noted." She had stopped calling him sir, and Jag didn't even care.

He grinned despite himself. "You're the best." 

"So I've been told," she said as he walked toward the bridge lift. She might have been saying more, but Jag's thoughts were roaming elsewhere. He only remembered the squad of Chiss military police assigned to protect the Ambassador, as they all stepped into the lift behind him. Desperately he tried to think of something…else for the next few seconds.

"_Twin Suns signing off, Control, and heading for the showers._"

Heat flushed Jag's features until even his scar felt like it was turning red. No doubt she knew he was still listening, and had added the last part for his private benefit. _I'll make her pay for that later_, he thought, then quickly banished the notion when ideas for retribution came in the form of adult-eyes-only holovids. Reaching up, he tapped the earpiece to turn it off.

The damage had been done, though, and sweat crept along Jag's hairline as he plowed out of the lift. The security detachment followed discreetly on the way to his stateroom door. Perhaps if he walked fast enough the tiny beads might not make a tell-tale appearance, and he might not make a _guant'no banahs_ of himself in front of his Chiss counterparts. The fact of the matter was Chiss rarely showed stress; it wasn't in their nature. And Jag prided himself in being more Chiss than the Chiss at times. Of course, no Chiss had ever been head over heels in love with a Jedi princess named Jaina Solo, either. 

With a curt dismissal, Jag barely acknowledged the leader of his security team before sweeping into his room. He fell against the door as it swished shut behind him and rested his head on the cool duranium. After one deep inhalation, calm filled his body. He could smell her everywhere.

Slowly Jag opened his eyes, taking in the disarray of his stateroom. Clothes were strewn about – a Jedi robe here, sparring attire there – and all he could do was smile at the sight. For all the strife caused by the Granjanjin Resistance, Jag had hardly a complaint. These past few weeks had been some of the best he could ever remember. When Chiss diplomacy efforts had met roadblocks, the Alliance had sent a team of skilled Jedi to aid in the mediation. Not long after the Jedi contingent arrived, Jaina had foregone any pretense that she needed to stay in her own cabin and had take up residence in his stateroom. By the time the talks had broken down, Jaina and Jag were thoroughly entrenched in the most domestic time of their lives.

It had been pure bliss that not even a deadly fortnight of space battle could have diminished.

The chime of an entry recognition code sounded, causing him to jump away from the door. No sooner had he cleared the entryway than Jaina's bedraggled form filled the doorframe. She looked sooty and sweaty, a lot tired and somewhat worse for wear, but she managed to smile up at him.

"So why are you still dressed?" she asked as she slid into the room.

"Uh…"

Jaina drew down the zipper of her flightsuit. Jag just stood there and watched. Actually, his hyperdrive-fueled libido wanted him to watch, but he couldn't stop looking into her eyes. They held a look that was more powerful than a dark star falling in on itself. Not powerful, that wasn't the word. Attractive. He was utterly attracted by the tantalizing fire dancing up from the depths of her soul and radiating in the golden flecks of her brown eyes.

"Jaina…I…" 

"Tuskcat got your tongue, flyboy?" Jaina began shimmying the flightsuit off her shoulder.

"Not a tuskcat exact-" 

The rest went unsaid. No taunting dialogue. No teasing. No foreplay. Jaina crashed into Jag, his clothes ripping off seemingly of their own accord. She was kissing him, everywhere and nowhere. His hands danced across her body, burned by the sensation of touch. She was on fire. Ablaze with passion for him alone.

Then he was falling onto the plane of his bed. Their lips were locked in a kiss. Jaina on top, her forehead knocked into his, her teeth pierced his lip. Jag chuckled despite the pain as he placed a palm to his forehead. He could feel her mirth as her ribs vibrated against his. 

In a swift roll Jag reversed their positions, so Jaina rested beneath him. "Are you all-"

Chiss didn't scream, but Jag tried. No sound escaped his lips as a face of clacking mandibles eased toward him. He tried to push her away, the creature. She wasn't Jaina. Not Jaina. This wasn't Jaina, he kept reminding himself. But the creature didn't seem to care he wanted no part of her game; she kept coming. Unavoidable. He feared she might devour him if he didn't –

"No!"

Jag awoke with a start. Dream or not, his hands still swatted at the unseen enemy. He fought to breathe in rapid gasps, but the effort brought so much pain his body froze. 

From one nightmare to another. He wasn't sure which was worse – his quick death at the hands of some insectoid queen his imagination had concocted from his remembrance of Jaina, or his slow impending starvation once the emergency rations ran out.

Jag surveyed his surroundings. A cold rain pelted everything not hidden within the craggy ridges of the deep ravine. The acidic drops pinged off the single crumpled wing of his battered clawcraft that was now his paltry makeshift shelter. A safe haven no more, the other remnants of his fighter had landed all across the ravine system that stretched from the Trachak Valley to the Rigor Rift. Worst of all, the winds carried a nauseating smell of putrefying chitin and spoiling remains of flesh and bug guts, an ever present reminder of the war that had been waged across Tenupe for the past few months. 

The war was over now. He was pretty sure of that. The heavens had been silent and the distant rumble of cannon fire had ceased days back. For a time, he had made out the familiar whine of Chiss craft passing overhead in a standard search and rescue pattern, but he had also known from the start that their reconnaissance equipment would be no match for the rocky terrain pocked with ore deposits. If they were going to find him, it would have to be on foot. His hope of that had run out about the same time his food reserves had. Now, two weeks after the crash, he had only two ounces of drinkable water left and no chance of getting more. The rain was so contaminated it would turn his insides to mush, and his shattered ankle made it impossible to search for viable alternatives.

This was an unworthy end; he should have let the _Millennium Falcon_ blow him from the sky. 

Finding himself on the trail toward desperation and despondency, Jag took comfort in the fact that he believed the Chiss had won. If nothing else, his efforts hadn't been for naught. But a little voice of fear or exhaustion – it didn't truly matter which – still sometimes whispered, _Maybe the bugs won._

Just maybe, he pondered, the Killiks had won. Perhaps his Chiss brethren had stopped searching because they were all absorbed into the hive. Possibly there was a bug or two still out there, looking for another Chiss victim to feed its young. Out of habit he reached for his blaster, which had lain at his side since he crawled to this position propped against a rock. If there was one end Jag had no desire to meet…

He couldn't even bring himself to think it. He started to shut his eyes and press out the thought when a sudden movement of a silhouette against the ravine wall caught his eye. Focusing on the spot, Jag scooted to a more hidden position, deeper in the shadow of the clawcraft wing. His fingers flipped off the safety while his heart wound up to pulse dehydrated blood through his veins. He was in no position to fight – but he could still try to shoot. As long as he saved enough charge in the power pack for one final shot.

With a heave he leveled the blaster along a rock and took careful aim.

Immediately his hand began to shake, and his weary eyes closed even though he willed them not to. When he forced his eyes open again a hazy form was emerging from the dim recesses of the ravine.

"Stop right there," he croaked. 

The figure paused and raised its arms – pincers? – defensively. "It's all right, Jag."

His blaster suddenly felt heavy, and Jag blinked again.

It was closer now. "I won't hurt you."

He fought against the ever-increasing weight of his blaster. "Stop, I said."

It kept coming. "Jag, it's me."

Even with two hands the blaster trembled. He couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger, though. "_Stop!_"

It finally did as he asked, so close he could see two legs but not the head hidden by the clawcraft wing. Then it began to kneel –

"Jai-na?" As the familiar face came into view, Jag dropped the blaster.

"Well, you're a mess," she said with a forced smile, crawling under the shelter towards him.

He tried to scoot his body away, but only managed to stir a sharp protest from his ribs and broken ankle. "_Ktah!_"

Her eyes appraised him critically. "You can say that again."

He grimaced, a little from the pain, a lot because it was so easy to accept her. "Go away," he finally grunted.

Dropping to a knee, she started to rummage through her pack. "Not a chance, flyboy. It took a lot of doing to find you –"

"Don't call me that."

She glanced up, her brown eyes wary. "I'm sorry, Jag."

"Probably not more than I am."

Jaina turned her attention back to the contents of her pack and eventually withdrew a water bottle. "I bet you need some of this."

He snatched it and took a long swig. The water tasted so good.

"So what did you have left? A couple ounces?"

He met her tentative gaze. She knew him too well. Jag tipped his head in acknowledgement before taking another drink. His hand was quivering by the time he finished, and the water spilled down side of his face. Extending her hand to wipe the corner of his mouth, Jaina smiled tenderly. It was something she had done a hundred times before; it had been their game. She acted out of ingrained habit.

Her mistake.

Jaina's smile faded the instant she felt the barrel of his blaster pressing into her jaw.

"Don't touch me again, Jaina, or I _will_ kill you."

TKL/dl


	2. Surrender

**_Surrender_**

"I _will_ kill you."

If Jaina knew one thing about Jagged Fel, it was that he didn't make idle threats. Slowly, she drew her hand away from his face, then held up both defensively, palms forward and passive. "I'm not here to hurt you, Jag," she said softly. She had considered putting some Force inflection behind her words, but she figured that would only muddle the issue.

He refused to look her in the eyes. Instead his gaze darted suspiciously from her hands to the blaster at her hip.

"How about I give you my weapon?" She made a mental note to not tell her dad that she had surrendered his Deathhammer in the first minute she had found Jag.

The blaster in Jag's hand started to shake; he waved it at her suddenly. "Put yours on the ground beside me."

Moving cautiously, Jaina flipped the holster open and used two fingers to back the blaster out. She faced the barrel to her, then clicked the powercell release. He hadn't asked for her to do it, but he should have. His eyes widened slightly and hardened a second later.

"Your lightsaber, too."

Reaching down, she gently placed the blaster closer to Jag than herself. "I don't have my lightsaber." 

He sat quietly for the span of several heartbeats. "I don't believe you."

Jaina held her hands up and twisted her body so he could take a better look. "I'd let you frisk me, Jag, but I don't think you're in the mood."

Her attempt at levity didn't even garner the old twinkle in his green eyes. His face was an impassive plane. "What about your bag?"

"It's not in there, but you can check yourself if you'd like."

He eyed the pack suspiciously. "Why wouldn't you bring your lightsaber?"

It was a valid question. He had never known her not to have her Jedi weapon at her side; even when they had been tangled in his bed it had been within arm's reach.

Inhaling, Jaina quieted the painful memories only days old. "It seems that by ignoring the Jedi Grand Master's call to return to Ossus, we…I fell out of favor. The Jedi are no longer free to follow their hearts; we must follow a Skywalker's."

"Luke took your weapon?"

"No." A rueful smile curled her lips. "Mara did that. Jedi Grand Master Skywalker sentenced me to time spent on Dagobah. When my dear aunt realized I had other plans she asked for my lightsaber." Her smile faded. "I'm not sure if she speaks for her husband or not. To be honest I'm not sure I want to be a Jedi anymore."

"Would this be your other plan?"

Jaina met his gaze. Something had softened in his expression. The wariness was there, but at least he was listening. "Yes."

"The war is over, then?"

"It seems."

"Who won?" 

Her legs began to cramp from her crouched position under the makeshift shelter. "I'd love to answer all your questions, but do you think I could sit or something?"

"Oh. Right." He waved the blaster, nodding.

While she shuffled into a cross-legged position across from him, Jag took a swig from the water bottle. Another trickle of water formed at the side of his mouth, and her hand itched to wipe it away. Instead, she grabbed for her pack – 

"_Don't._" He had the blaster trained on her again.

She stared directly into his threatening eyes. "I'll empty it."

He tipped his head, and she carefully dumped the pack's contents onto the ground before him. Jag studied it all – a water cleanser unit, a medkit, a bacta sleeve, a change of clothes, a personal hygiene bag, ration bars…

"You hungry?" She held a bar out to him.

He snatched the bar and unwrapped it as fast as his fingers allowed. While he chewed away on the tasteless meal, Jaina figured it was as good a time as any to talk.

"No one really won the war, Jag. There was no need for the speciecide parasite. Just as Uncle Luke said he would, the Jedi destroyed the Dark Nest and took out Raynar Thul. Now they're also spreading the Woteba nanotech into the hives to limit…" Suddenly feeling cold, she ran her hands along her arms. "The Colony won't be able to expand like it used to."

"So we did win?"

"Does anyone really win a war, Jag?"

He didn't even blink. "I don't understand. Why would your uncle be mad at you? Didn't he send your parents here to help in the Killiks' fight?"

Jaina shook her head. It had seemed black and white at the time, but in fact they had been mired in a fog of gray. "My parents were concerned by my decision to not return to Ossus. They feared I was becoming a Joiner –"

"Feared?" He huffed. "You _are_."

Jaina reached forward, grabbing the water cleanser unit. She flipped it open and stretched to place it outside in the pounding rain. "Maybe…I was."

A chime sounded and Jag started, leveling the blaster at her once more. "What is that?"

"My chrono." She held out her wrist, depressing one of the buttons to silence the alarm. Casually she reached into the pocket of her utilities and withdrew a small case. "Time for my shot."

"What's that for?" he asked as she removed a hypo from the case.

"Just something Cilghal wanted me to take."

"I thought you weren't in good standing with the Jedi?"

"Not everyone does everything my uncle says," Jaina snipped, and instantly regretted it. She pressed the hypo to her arm and flinched as the drug fired into her body. "I'm sorry." She inhaled deeply; by the time she exhaled she felt much calmer. "Cilghal was kind enough to examine me before I left, as a favor to my mother."

"Your mother knows you're here?" 

"I couldn't have made it planetside without her help." She shut the case and tucked it back into her pocket. "Dad's too."

He bit off a huge hunk of ration bar and gnashed on it. "Must be feeling guilty."

Jaina felt the same sickening ache roil in her stomach. She still had to make peace with what had happened; she didn't know whether to hate her mother for shooting Jag down or console her. Then again, she didn't know how to feel about Jag orchestrating the capture and interrogation of her parents, or what to think about the unknown traitor who had betrayed them. Honestly, Jaina didn't know about a lot of things. What she did know was that she needed to do this.

"For what it's worth, my mother and father are torn up about what happened, Jag. We all had our duties –"

"Let's not talk about it." He shifted his injured leg gingerly.

She could feel his pain throbbing in the Force. "Will you let me look at that?"

Jag stiffened. "Want to see how quickly I'll succumb so you can take me back to the hive?"

He might as well have shot her in the gut. She said nothing in return. Picking up the medkit, she scooted closer. He didn't pull away, but he didn't relax, either. She didn't need a medscanner to understand his injury. She could see the deformed bone and feel it beginning to heal. Just to be sure, she took out the device and ran it over his leg. Even knowing what it would say, the evaluation readout looked grim.

"I'm going to have to reset this leg." That sounded gentler than _rebreak_, but she was kidding no one. "I can give you a painkiller first –" 

"No."

"Look, Jag," she shot back, "you need to get out of this ravine, and I'm in no shape to float you back down to the valley."

"I meant, no painkillers." 

"You've got to be kidding…you don't trust me?"

He shifted his back against the rock. "I trust you'll do a good job of breaking it."

"Point." Her eyebrow arched. "You've taken this round, Jag. The game's not over yet."

"Just do it," he grunted.

"I could use some techniques –" 

"No Jedi funny bus-aaaargh!"

She had broken the ankle bones before he knew what hit him.

"You toady-horned, bantha-smelling, rotten, lying, honorless Sith witch!"

Jaina quickly unwrapped the bacta sleeve. "Is that the best you've got?"

While she slid the sleeve around his leg, he rattled off a few expressions in Chiss that lost nothing in translation. Pure rage spilled out into the Force.

"Some curses those are. And you claim you're Corellian." Jaina bit down on her lip; the worst part was yet to come. Using the Force, she tugged his bones in opposing directions until they snapped into the proper alignment. 

"I _hate_ you!" Jag howled before slumping against the rock.

Jaina sat frozen in the narrow ravine as the walls closed inward, pushing the echoes of his final words at her. _I hate you!_ Words were a weapon against which even a Jedi could not defend. They pierced through her like a million shards of white hot fury. Her hands trembling, Jaina somehow managed the last few adjustments to the bacta sleeve. A lone tear traced down her cheek, but it was the only victory she would allow.

She deserved this.

Taking care to not disturb Jag, she inched closer to check his breathing. It was shallow and irregular. Even using the Force she wasn't sure she could regulate his pain enough to keep him still for the time it would take his leg to set. Eyeing the medkit, she considered her alternatives. Almost immediately she began to look for the strongest painkiller available. She found the ketaline hypo near the bottom. Jaina didn't have a second thought as she pressed it against the exposed skin on Jag's neck.

He hated her already. She had nothing left to lose.

Finally left alone with her thoughts, a wave of exhaustion flooded her body. Jaina leaned against the rock next to Jag and began to sob. She wasn't sure how long it took her mind to wrestle control from her body – she hadn't permitted such emotions to overtake her since…

"No." Jaina batted away a traitorous tear. "Not now, Jaina. Not here." 

She sniffled, and her eyes drifted back to check on Jag. The pain medication had washed away the hard lines that had marred his handsome face. She had always known Jag was capable of being the toughest foe; she had never imagined his brutal single-mindedness would be turned against her specifically. The anonymity of the cockpit had spared Jaina his razor-sharp scorn. Face to face with it, she found his harsh contempt almost unbearable. For the time being, at least, she was favored by the silence of his recovery.

Jaina needed that silence to calm herself and then find serenity in the Force. Only then could she aid Jag's healing. Starting to adjust her position beside him, she paused, struck by a sudden onslaught of a memory – the last time she had seen his face smoothed by the bliss of freedom from worry.

Slowly and without thought, Jaina leaned forward, placing a tender kiss on his lips. He tasted like fizz pudding on a miserable day, sunshine on a breeze, laughter in a trying moment. He tasted like Jag.

Jaina felt his green-eyed stare and opened her eyes. His lips smiled beneath hers, and she smiled back. Greedily, they nipped and savored each other's lips, never breaking eye contact. Jaina was the one to pull away, but only when she suddenly felt lightheaded from lack of air.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," he said, wrapping her in an all-encompassing embrace, no part of them separate. "But a man can only do so much before his body fails him."

"You're a tougher man than that, Jagged Fel."

"Mmmm, I don't think so." Mirth rumbled in his chest beneath her. "I'm out of practice."

She broke their locked gazes to kiss his chest. "I'm sorry for that." 

Suddenly he shifted so she ended with her back to his chest, their legs tangled, his arms holding her securely to him. "Don't be. You're here now and that's all that matters."

Jaina shut her eyes and relished the comfort she found in his arms. "Jag?" 

"Hmm?"

"I think I'm ready to take you up on that offer."

He was silent for a moment. "To go home?" 

"Yes."

His hold tightened to the point it felt like he was shaking. Jaina waited, letting the moment pass. Finally, he kissed the back of her head. "There was a time I feared you were distancing yourself from me, but these past weeks have been…incredible. This means more to me than you could know."

It was Jaina's turn to be silent. From the nightstand her wristchrono chimed, a welcome respite. "I'd better get that."

Jag didn't relinquish his hold. "What if I don't want you to?" 

Jaina stiffened, unsure how to take his question.

Jag nuzzled into the back of her neck, then released his hold slowly. "Go. I'll be waiting."

Turning off her chrono alarm, she slipped from beneath the covers and wrapped herself in a robe. On the way to the refresher, she picked up various items strewn across the room – her boots, her cloak, her sparring attire.

"Jay, leave it."

"I'm just going to put it with my stuff," she said, placing the items in a pile by her travel bag placed neatly in a corner. Jaina wasn't generally a messy person; in fact, she liked things to be organized. The problem was, this wasn't Jaina's place and they hadn't had the time between the constant skirmishes to make it otherwise.

"Jaina?"

She looked up to meet his cool green eyes. "Hmm?"

"I…" Breaking eye contact, Jag shook his head. "It's nothing."

"What's nothing, Jag?"

He met her bewildered stare, and flashed one of his rare disarming smiles. "I just need to talk to you about something."

"Okay," she started back toward him.

"Not now. Before we go to Csilla though."

She froze. "You sure?"

"Yeah." He shook his head ruefully. "Sorry, I was thinking out loud."

Anxious tension was coming off Jag in waves. In all the time she'd known him Jaina had never felt such emotions. She arched an eyebrow; he must have noticed because his mental barriers flew up immediately.

Not knowing what to make of the last few seconds, Jaina returned to her task. Rifling through her bag, she found the small pack of syringes and took one out. Silently, she made her way to the refresher.

When the door shut behind her, she paused, blinking at her reflection in the mirror. After years of wallowing in some sort of emotional limbo, things were suddenly happening very quickly. Jag had been right; she had been distancing herself. She just didn't know how to explain it, even to herself. While the war had been emotionally devastating, at least she hadn't had time to think. Once the fighting had stopped her thoughts had become her worst enemy. That was one of the reasons she had taken the toughest assignments; so she didn't have to think about Anakin, Chewie, or any of the hundreds of other friends she had lost. Most importantly she didn't have to think about where she would be in the future, if she even had a future. 

Jag had always been a question waiting to be answered, and she had avoided being asked. But this assignment had been just the impetus she needed to force the matter. Somehow, seeing Jag again had made everything right once more, just like it had during the war. 

He had been her rock then. She still wanted that.

A tingling sensation erupted in her gut and suddenly she wanted to be back in Jag's arms, letting him tell her whatever he needed to say. Spinning the hypo in her fingers she angled it toward her thigh – 

A tremendous surge rocked the floor right out from under her feet. Up become down as the artificial gravity went awry. Then the air began to be sucked from her lungs in the telltale signs of decompression.

Jaina's only thought was that this was not how she wanted to die.

TKL/dl


	3. Scarred

**_Scarred_**

The instant the refresher door sealed shut Jag scrambled from the bed. He fumbled into his clothes, then tripped over a pants leg in his excitement. By the time he fastened his belt he was surprised Jaina hadn't emerged from the refresher with some snappy retort about a herd of Banthas running around the stateroom.

Finally regaining his balance, Jag walked to the closet and pushed aside the clothes. Fighting the nervous energy in his hands, he punched the code into the safe hidden in the back wall. It chirped a tone and popped open. Rifling through the various top secret flimsies and an assortment of spare blasters and powercells, his fingers finally came to rest on a small cloth bag nestled in the back corner. He palmed the luxurious fabric, fighting back the mixture of disappointment and anticipation swirling deep within his gut.

He hadn't opened this bag since the day he had left Jaina on Zonama Sekot, but he had carried it with him always. Hoping beyond hope that some day –

A violent lurch brought the closet's contents crashing down around him. Almost instantly, however, the pile of clothes lifted, floating away as the artificial gravity generators failed. Jag tried to call out to Jaina, but his lungs were painfully empty. The hiss of rushing air and the popping of his eardrums confirmed the ship had experienced a sizable hull breach.

The stateroom door whisked open and air fled the room with the speed of a Csilla blizzard. The head of the Ambassador's security detail, fighting weightlessness, pulled himself into the room. The rest of his squad followed, rebreathers in their mouths.

"Ambassador, we need to get you to safety," the squad leader shouted over the howling air and blaring alarms, then placed a rebreather to his lips.

"Not –" Jag could hardly find the air to speak. "Jain-a."

As if on cue, she tumbled from the refresher. Simultaneously her flightsuit whipped across the room and into her hand. With no mind to impropriety, Jaina ripped off her robe, letting it fall into the flurry of debris flying about the room. While she struggled into her clothes, Jag accepted a rebreather from one of the soldiers.

After a couple of deep breaths, he leaned in to the squad leader. "Jaina needs one too."

She floated across the room, waving them off with one hand while digging through a pocket with another. With a triumphant grin, Jaina tugged out a tiny rebreather. She had once told him all good Jedi carried rebreathers. Luckily for them it was true; the squad leader was indicating he had none to spare.

"That won't last long," Jag noted.

Jaina sucked in a quick breath. "Don't need long. Jedi, remember?"

She was right, and he didn't have the luxury of worrying about it at the moment. Jag snatched a shirt from the air, and only then realized he was still clutching the tiny bag in his other hand. "Status report, Major?"

The Chiss barked into his throat microphone, then listened intently over the roar of the decompressing ship. Jaina clasped on her lightsaber belt while Jag donned the shirt. When he was sure she wasn't looking, he tucked the bag into his one pants pocket that buttoned closed.

"Sir, initial reports indicate a lone Granjanjin fighter made a suicide run into the bridge. Decks 9, 10 and 11 are venting atmosphere," the squad leader bellowed. 

The crew was more than capable of sealing the breaches; Jag could already feel the pressure rising in his ears as the ship's life support systems began to counter the effects; thankfully, artificial gravity was the first system restored fully. Still his immediate concern was the damage to the bridge. "Report to the secondary bridge. I want an update relayed as soon as you arrive." 

The squad leader nodded in understanding. "What about you, sir?"

Jag sucked in one quick breath from the rebreather. "Knight Solo and I will attempt to assess the damage to the primary bridge."

The Chiss was not happy with his directive, but there was no visible indication other than the thin set to his mouth. The squad leader bowed succinctly and jogged out of the stateroom with his team in tow. Jaina and Jag followed, turning in the opposite direction.

"Feels like old times," Jaina quipped, running along at his side.

"What, mayhem and danger at every turn?" 

Even with the rebreather back in her mouth, her Solo grin was clearly visible. Jag felt oddly happy, and realized any instant in time would feel right so long as Jaina was at his side. From her expression, he wondered if she had the same inclination.

The lifts were out of commission, so Jag led Jaina to the emergency stairwell. Luckily the hoverchute was operating on backup power. Jaina indicated for Jag to hop on. "Ro. Ul eet oo ad da op." 

She blasted up the stairs with inhuman speed as Jag climbed onto the small sled. He tapped the controls and it rocketed him upward, then slammed to a halt. Practically falling out of the chute five levels up, Jag stumbled toward the bridge. The blast doors were sealed shut, and an emergency response team was positioned outside. They were occupied by numerous small fires flaring from the walls. 

A heavy-set Chiss barked at the team, all the while studying the scanner in his hands. Jag trotted over to him. "Report, Sergeant."

The Chiss didn't lift his eyes or respond initially. Only when he appeared satisfied with his evaluation did he meet Jag's imposing stare. "The bridge is a loss. No atmosphere and over eighty percent structural damage. I am reading several lifeforms trapped in the bridge lift about one level down."

"We should get down there, then." The air was thick with smoke, and even with the rebreather Jag coughed. A hand settled on his back and the hacking subsided. Jag glanced up to find Jaina there, and smiled appreciatively.

"Too much damage on this side, sir," the sergeant continued. "We'll have to climb up from below and cut them out."

"Do the survivors have that kind of time?" Jag asked. There were no rebreathers in lifts and no emergency supplies.

"We will work as fast as possible," the Chiss responded.

"I can do it faster," Jaina interjected.

Jag hesitated.

"I don't need climbing devices and I've got my own personal cutting tools." She patted her lightsaber.

Before he could make a decision his comlink chimed. "Fel here." 

"Ambassador, the secondary bridge is secured. Systems report as follows: Shields offline, helm control unresponsive, weapons powering up –"

"Thank you, Major." Jag didn't need to hear more. The _Rising Storm_ was in dire trouble. 

"Go," Jaina told him. "I can handle this."

She was right. Jag nodded, then turned to the Chiss at his side. "Take good care of her, Sergeant."

Jag hurried away and didn't look back. Suddenly a fire roared out of a nearby panel, bright and scorching hot. Jag lifted his hand to shield his face, and even then had to shut his eyes against the blaze's incandescence. Warmth spread across the right side of his face until he felt beads of sweat form along his scar line. Then he realized his head was pounding, and when he tried to bring a hand to his forehead, it wouldn't move. In fact, Jag felt like he was immersed in a vat of quicksand.

Opening his eyes, he had to blink as sunlight accosted his optic nerve.

His eyes were slow to react, and Jag thought he could make out the lithe form of Jaina before him.

_But she's supposed to be –_

She was there, back to him. Her bare back to him. Suddenly it all snapped into focus. The clawcraft wing. The rocky terrain. Jaina the bug –

Her hands moved across her skin, rubbing in a lotion. The Tenupe atmosphere was caustic to human skin, drying it out quickly. Jaina's skin was as porcelain as ever, though, stretched taut over sinewy muscles. But she was thin, too thin. And there was a scar – stretching from her left shoulder blade all the way down to her right hip. To Jag, it looked like something had tried to cut her in two, and nearly succeeded.

"Where'd you get that?"

She finished rubbing in the last dab of lotion on her shoulder, never looking back. "What?"

"The scar." 

"Oh." She quickly pulled on her tank. Leaving the top of her utilities draped around her waist, she turned around to face him. "On some Jedi mission, somewhere."

"Didn't the place have bacta?"

"It was an issue at the time." She moved toward his injured ankle still wrapped in the bacta sleeve.

He regarded her cautiously. "You never had it fixed?"

"You're a fine one to talk," she said, running the medscanner over the sleeve. "Looks like you're all healed. Finally."

He shifted against the rock, and grimaced when his body protested vehemently. "How long have I been out?"

She carefully lifted his leg and began to slide the sleeve off. "Three days." 

He ripped the leg the rest of the way and was half way to standing by the time he shouted back, "Three days!"

"Well, at least we know all those drugs I gave you didn't affect your cognitive skills." She kneeled before him, stiff and proud, having answered his question before his brain had managed to process it and daring him to challenge her on the matter. When he stood there momentarily speechless, she dropped her eyes quickly to his ankle. "Looks like you're bearing weight all right, too."

Not bothering to look back up, Jaina held out his blaster, which had obviously never left his side. Jag snatched it just as her wristchrono chimed. After resetting the alarm, Jaina rose and walked across the ravine floor. Settling in a shady recess, she crossed her legs and placed her hands on her knees.

Barefoot, Jag hobbled gingerly after her. "What was that for?"

Her eyes now shut, Jaina inhaled once slowly. "What?"

"The alarm." 

She exhaled, and inhaled.

"Do you have to take that medicine?"

"I will."

"Now?"

Her eyes popped open and she looked up at him. Despite being in the shade, beads of sweat were forming on Jaina's forehead. "When I'm ready." Her eyes closed again, and her chin lowered.

"But –"

Her eyes flew open. "How 'bout you worry about you and I'll worry about me? The sooner we can get out of here, the better."

He studied her knee. It shook in agitation below her right hand. "We'll go now."

Jaina shut her eyes. "We'll go when I'm ready."

Summarily dismissed, and knowing better than to push his luck, Jag backed away. He crawled under the makeshift shelter of the clawcraft wing and scrutinized his belongings. Other than a small personal bag, his boots, and the blaster in his hand, he had nothing to speak of. Except for the medscanner and the bacta sleeve, Jaina's personal effects were neatly stored in her pack. He rolled up the sleeve and placed the two items in the bag.

That was when he noticed her blaster and powercell lying by his rock. She hadn't reclaimed them. After tugging on his boots, he hobbled over to the blaster and picked it up. It was a beautiful weapon – a 434 Deathhammer, to be precise. They could blow holes through chitin. Definitely good for killing bugs. He picked up the powercell as well, then slowly made his way back to Jaina's pack. He placed the powercell into the weapon, checked the safety, and laid the blaster with the rest of her things. 

With nothing left to do, Jag propped himself up against the same rock he had leaned against for the last few days and waited. Time crawled by. He blinked against the afternoon sun, watching Jaina for what seemed like hours as she sat on the other side of the ravine. She remained motionless, never moving a muscle, still able to practice Jedi discipline with an unrivaled single-mindedness. Slowly his head grew heavy and his eyes too tired to keep up his vigil. They were just drifting shut when the chrono alarm sounded, jolting him from his impending slumber.

Jaina reached into her utility pocket and drew out a hypo. She plunged it into the bare skin of her arm, then stuffed the empty syringe back in her pocket. Rising, she dusted off her pants before glancing his way.

"_Now_ I'm ready."

TKL/dl


	4. Withdrawal

**_Withdrawal_**

Trekking along the treacherous floor of the ravine, Jaina chewed at her lip. She itched. The niggling urge to scratch her right forearm most of all. Despite her best efforts, for about the fiftieth time today she reached over with her left hand. She barely managed to touch her skin before yanking it away in pain. Glancing down, she realized why that simple brush had felt like an insect sting; her forearm was raw and oozing. Worse yet, she had done this to herself.

She cocked her wrist to check her chrono, and immediately regretted it. She stumbled, cursing, until a hand caught her by the elbow. Not _a_ hand – Jag's hand.

"Are you all right?"

"Fine." She yanked her elbow free; his touch hurt.

As she resumed her journey, Jaina silently cursed anyone she could: the gods of Corellia, the Force, her uncle and aunt. She swore at the agonizingly slow pace they had been traveling for the last day. Not that she could blame Jag. He had marched on his repaired ankle like he had been through weeks of rehab, not like a man on his first day out of a bacta sleeve, and he had yet to give any indication of slowing down. The terrain was the problem.

Still, her chrono didn't lie. It felt like hours had crept past when in fact they hadn't at all.

Disgusted, Jaina ripped off the chrono and stuffed it into her pack. She swung the pack back over her shoulder, then paused. The new sensation wasn't an itch. The distance between her and Jag was widening. Checking over her shoulder, she saw Jag stopped, propped against a rock.

He took a long drink from his water bottle, then splashed some on his face. He shook off the droplets and let out a satisfied breath. When he raised his face, Jag stared at Jaina, his green gaze as focused as a hard lock. She stared back, caught in the cool depths, wanting to remember the hard lines of his jaw, his cheek, his scar.

Out of nowhere. "Did you get bit by something?"

She blinked. Oh. She was scratching her arm again. She willed her fingers to stop. "No."

"Just the atmosphere taking its toll on your skin?"

"Not exactly." Her nails ripped at her flesh.

"You should put something on that."

"It's none of your concern, Jag." She stomped off.

"Is it a side effect of those shots?"

"What is this, _candor or can dare_?" she spat as she rounded.

He calmly approached her. "Not a nonsensical game, Jaina. Just a simple question."

Her shoulders heaved as she fought a fit of rage. "I don't owe you anything."

"Nor do I." Jag lowered the small pack off his shoulder, then reached out for her. She flinched, but his hand quickly closed around the fingers scratching in agitation. "But I have no desire to see you suffering."

"Just blown to smithereens a time or two."

Despite the harsh bite of her words, Jag simply tugged the pack off Jaina's shoulder. He held it out for her, never relinquishing his steadying grip on her antsy fingers. "I am sure there is some salve in the medkit."

"It won't do any good." His kindness made her want to chew his head off, but somehow she tempered her words. In fact, she almost felt like crying instead.

"Why not?"

Ripping her hand away, Jaina flung herself down on a rock. She stared at her hands knotted in fists. The anxiety that had been boiling in her veins all day had reached a point of no return. She wanted to shout at him, or maybe hit him, but his words and his eyes were so…kind. Really, she only wanted Jag to hold her and make this terrible emptiness digging at her gut go away. "What do you care?"

"Some part of me will never stop caring, Jaina."

His moment of honesty made her want to confide in him. Still, she found it next to impossible. She couldn't bring herself to say the words –

"How about some answers for answers?" He knelt beside her, the medkit from her pack in his hand.

She could do that. An information trade wasn't conceding anything. "Okay."

Even though she had explained otherwise, Jag took out a tube of salve and dabbed a healthy portion on his fingertip. "I think you know what I'm interested in."

She held out her right arm. "The shots?" Nodding once, he appeared to pay more attention to her wounded flesh than her reply. His touch was gentle and soothing. The skin on her arm stopped crying out in agony the instant he spread the cool salve over it. Inhaling sharply, Jaina resigned herself to the explanation. "The hive mind affects some basic physiological systems. Increases levels of certain hormones depending on the demand placed upon the particular individual. Then there is the membrosia…"

He looked up, his eyes dark and sad. "You're suffering from withdrawal."

"Yes," she answered, then broke their gaze. "All the Jo-Jedi who have experienced the hive mind have felt the effects to some degree. I did after Qoribu, but this time it's much worse."

Jag silently capped the tube and placed it back in the medkit. "Worse?"

"Zekk -" she felt a piercing stab of pain emanate from Jag at the mention of the name "- and I stayed with the Killiks for much longer than the others. My body hasn't relearned to regulate itself the ways it used to. The shot is supposed to mimic the effect of the hive mind."

"And let you down slowly." He didn't understand, yet.

"Even in the best of circumstances the withdrawal will take months and will be…difficult. Cilghal thought it would be best if I avoided starting the process until after –"

"You rescued me." He stood suddenly, walking away a few steps before stopping and turning to face her. He looked sick. "You didn't think it would take this long."

"No." She hadn't counted on the delays. A treacherous hike in to him. Three days for his leg to heal.

"So you're trying to space out the shots."

"Yes."

His features drew into that grim expression she remembered all too well. "We'll just have to make better progress, then." He paced back over to her and offered a hand.

Jaina accepted the help to her feet. She swung the pack over her shoulder before marching after him. He walked more surefooted and confident than he had before. They continued down the ravine in an awkward silence until Jaina couldn't resist the urge to say something. "Don't run yourself into the ground on my behalf."

"I won't," he replied, not looking back. "This is for me. I don't want to feel like I owe you anything."

"Oh."

He paused, half glancing over his shoulder. "It's your turn, you know."

"Right." She had all but forgotten. Her question. She didn't have to think long. "About my mother…"

Although she hadn't thought it possible, Jag's pace quickened. "You're wondering how she bested me, when you couldn't."

Jaina's shoulders drew up. She bit her lip to silence a scathing retort. In all fairness, he spoke the truth.

"To be honest, a basic trainee could have knocked me from the sky by the time I caught up with the _Falcon_."

Jaina pondered his statement for several heartbeats. "The clawcraft spiral?"

Still facing away, walking at the same fervent pace, he shrugged. "Too cocky a maneuver in atmosphere. By the time I pulled out there were minor fractures in the ventral starboard wing. It didn't take long for them to worsen in the heat of battle. My clawcraft was practically shaking itself apart by the time your mother popped a few into it."

Jaina clamped her eyes shut against the vivid image of Jag's clawcraft erupting in a ball of flame. Allowing the Force to guide her feet, she walked blind for the span of a couple cleansing breaths. When she finally opened her eyes, he had gotten much further ahead. She jogged to catch up. "Jag…I wish –"

"Don't." He refused to look at her.

He maintained the same strict march for several more hours, never daring to cast his green eyes her way, but talking the whole time. He persisted in their exchange, asking candid questions, giving honest responses in return. Some of the questions were touchy, but none really dug at the truth. It was a thankful distraction for Jaina. The agony of her body's withdrawal was in full bloom. Her hands shook, her head pounded, and her stomach imitated gravity reversals far too frequently. Talking with Jag was such a comfortable pastime she almost was able to bear the pain, until ultimately her calves began to cramp relentlessly.

She moaned, bending over to clutch the right leg. Jag's boots appeared in her field of vision in a matter of seconds. "Can't. Keep."

"I am about out of fuel, too." He knelt beside her. Despite his proclamation, he appeared no worse for wear.

Jaina was positive she looked like she had gone a round or two with a gundark. Sweat caked her hair to her scalp, and grime covered every inch of her body. "How...do you…do it?

He spread out their one small blanket. They would have to share. "What?"

She dropped onto it. "Nothing fazes you."

"I assure you plenty of things have fazed me." Settling beside her, he extracted the ration bars he now carried in his pack. He passed one to her.

Jaina unwrapped it and bit off the end. She studied his unreadable features and probed his aura in the Force. To someone who hadn't spent as much time with him as she had, Jag might have been a blank page, but there was one telltale sign – a twitch of the eyebrow under his scar. "What is it you haven't asked?"

He lowered the bar from his mouth and returned her stare. It was true; they had danced around the real questions nagging at the back of their minds. Something had fazed Jag once, and Jaina had put herself in this hell so both of them could close this chapter in their lives and move on.

"One more question each, then."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she tipped her head in agreement even though all she wanted to do was curl up in a ball. She owed him this much.

He inhaled a long breath. "Supply Depot Thrago. Why did you do it?"

Her trembling body turned to stone. "I…I don't even know where to start, Jag. At the time it seemed like the right thing to do. The Force had shown premonitions of a terrible war –"

"So you started it early? I gave my word for you, put my family's honor on the line. And that's how you repay me?"

"We thought the Chiss were going to attack." The admission rang hollow in her ears.

"How long have you known me? Known what I've valued most from the Chiss?" Jag's voice was cold.

"The best offense is an exceptional defense."

"And when you attacked you couldn't see that the fleet was in cold storage?"

Jaina could taste the bitter irony in his words. "Yes, I recognized that fact."

"And yet you still gave the order?"

"We were trying –"

"Leave your boyfriend out of this! Just admit you gave the order!"

"But I didn't," she answered softly.

"Lies! You chose to forget what I had done. Do you think I care if they tore that hairy oaf limb from limb? I mortgaged my family name because I knew what Lowbacca meant to you. Yet you still came to Thrago and attacked a base on minimal alert status, an outright act of war. You ordered your team –"

"It was Jacen!" Tears streamed down her cheeks. So much betrayal on all sides. She had put her faith in her twin, and it had cost her everything. "_Jacen_ led the attack. I tried to tell him, but he wouldn't listen to us. He wouldn't listen, he started the battle, then none of us had a choice."

Jag sat there, looking like he had been kicked in the gut. "It couldn't…" He shook his head in an adamant refusal. "No! It was -" he jabbed his finger in accusation "- you."

Inadvertently his finger poked her shoulder, and she winced. She snatched his hand in hers and refused to let go when he struggled to break free. "Jag –"

"No." He yanked his arm.

She held on, using the Force this time, and placed his hand over her pounding heart. She wasn't sure who was shaking worse, Jag or her. "Please, listen to me. I swear on Anakin's name I did not lead the attack."

Jag stilled.

"I made a choice, I admit that. Jacen asked me to assist in a raid because he had foreseen the beginning of a terrible war. I had to choose between honoring my brother and honoring you." Tears streamed down her face, but she didn't dare let go to wipe them. "Jacen betrayed me. We could have turned back, but he made sure we couldn't. You _have_ to believe me."

Only then did she let go of his hand. His eyes were conflicted; there was something dangerous lurking in their emeraude core. But he didn't say anything. She waited, and still he remained silent, staring at her.

Her afflicted mind was no longer able to oppose his steely resolve, so she set about preparing to turn down for a couple hours of sleep, her body permitting. Without a word she withdrew one of her last two hypos and dispensed the liquid into her arm. This time, though, the usual instantaneous relief was elusive. She laid her head on the blanket and tried to shut her eyes against the tremors rattling her limbs.

The unexpected sound of Jag's voice startled her. "You still have a question."

"What?" She tugged her knees to her chest, fighting the chill racing up her spine.

"It's your turn, if you want it."

"Oh. Yes." There was a question burning at the back of her psyche, just as Jag's question had eaten at him. The hypo was probably too little too late anyway; sleep would escape her anytime in the near future.

With her back to him, she asked, "Who betrayed my parents?"

Silence.

"Jag?" Finally she rolled over. His back was to her. "Who betrayed my parents?"

His chest rose and fell slowly. "I can't say."

"Can't, or won't?"

"Both…And don't ask me again, Jaina."

"But I answered your questions." She trembled violently now. "Even the most painful ones."

"This is different. It would hurt too much." His meaning was lost without the benefit of looking into his eyes.

"Hurt you?"

"No."

"Me?" She sat up. "I'm a big girl, Jag. I can take care of myself. There's someone out there who wants to harm my family. I need to find that person before someone dies."

He rolled over to face her. "I'm not going to tell you." He had left something unsaid. "Besides, you admit you chose Jacen over me. I owe nothing to a person with no honor."

She balled a fist and banged it against his upturned shoulder. Jaina knew she shouldn't, but she was just so…mad. "Tell me!"

She beat both fists into Jag as he sat up. He deflected her frenzied assault with little effort, adding to her frustration. "Stop, Jay. Please stop."

Then her wrists were clamped in his powerful hands; she struggled to break his grip. "I have to know before he hurts my family. I have to." She wrestled harder and protested louder, but to no avail. Somehow she ended in his arms, sobbing inconsolably.

"I'm sorry," he said, stroking her hair. "But I can't."

"Why not?" Jaina pounded her fists against his chest once more.

"Because I'm afraid of what that person might do."

"To your family?"

"No, Jaina. To you."

A dam inside Jaina burst. Emotions spilled out, tearing down any remaining obstructions to their tumultuous release. Whether it was her body's weakness or her heart's, she wasn't sure. She just knew she no longer had the strength to hold back years of personal heartache, and Jag's arms were the safest place to simply let go. So she cried. She cried until she could cry no more, then she laid in his lap gasping for air and hoping beyond hope the tremors in her limbs would cease. Her arms hadn't shaken like that since…

Suspended precariously in the turbolift shaft, Jaina fought to dispel the tremors threatening to compromise her position. Even for a Jedi the climb had been difficult, and now she was preparing for the trickiest part of her ascent. With her legs braced on one side and her arms pressed against the opposite wall, she glanced up one more time to be sure she had gauged the distance to the base of the turbolift car correctly. To ease her protesting muscles she shook out one leg at a time, then her arms.

Wiping her right hand on her pants leg, she inhaled one deep breath and drew on the Force. Her lightsaber launched from its place on her belt, smacking into her palm and igniting with a _snap-hiss_. The blade sliced through the lift wall below the level of her braced hand. With practiced skill, she made two cuts big enough for footholds about half a meter on either side of the corner where the shaft walls met. Extinguishing the blade, she returned the weapon to her belt.

"Here comes the fun part." Jaina readied her muscles for the effort. "One. Two. Three!"

With a tremendous burst of power she leapt, ending with her feet in the holes and her fingers twined in the web of conduits that rimmed the bottom of the off-kilter lift car. She paused, mentally regrouping from the effort. Immersing herself in the currents of the Force, she searched for the lifeforms above her. One was semi-conscious; the rest were either unconscious or…dead.

Peering up, Jaina determined the best place to cut, then surgically sliced into the floor with her lightsaber. She didn't even attempt to prevent the severed section of floor from falling. It tumbled past, bouncing and clanging a descent through the long shaft. Heaving herself upward, Jaina clambered into the lift.

The small area was dark, illuminated only by a slowly rotating red glowlamp that cast an eerie light on the pile of mangled bodies. The lift must have plummeted at a deadly velocity, rebounding off the shaft walls until it had become lodged in this precarious position. From underneath the crush of motionless Chiss came a plaintive moan. Taking care even with the dead, Jaina worked to extricate the lone conscious survivor. The sight of long black hair gave her reason to pause.

"Shawnkyr?"

"Unhhh," the usually reserved Chiss officer groaned.

Jaina offered a silent prayer of thanks. If nothing else, Jag had not lost his lifelong friend this day. She eased the tall woman's head onto her lap, doing her best to soothe Shawnkyr with healing energy. "You're going to be all right. Do you know what happened to you?"

"_Jana duot nono b'lanhandtra._"

"Shawnkyr, it's Jay-"

"I know is who it." Abruptly Shawnkyr sat up. "_Towa dun._ No help you from."

Jaina caught the Chiss as she slumped back. Only then did she notice the trace of blood trickling from her hairline. "Easy there. You've taken a nasty blow to the head."

"Not first time have you cut _nerohchi_."

"Not me. I didn't cut you," Jaina reassured her. "It happened in the fall."

"Cut Jag." Shawnkyr batted Jaina's hand away when she moved to tend to the bleeding head wound.

"No, Jag's fine." Jaina tried again to move aside the black hair matted with blood.

Shawnkyr slapped her hand, harder this time. "No cut Jag you!"

Jaina's brow furrowed. Obviously Shawnkyr was trying to get a point across, but the head trauma was interfering with her command of Basic. As best Jaina could tell, Jag's friend had suffered a number of injuries, but none of them were life threatening. No matter, the sooner Jaina got Shawnkyr to real medical assistance, the sooner the injuries could be looked at. Swinging the emergency pack off her back, Jaina resolved to do just that.

"Let me get a bacta patch on that wound and then we'll get out of here. Okay?" Very slowly Jaina peeled away the backing to a patch, then carefully placed it over the head wound.

Shawnkyr watched, her red eyes wary. Finally she rasped, "He waited."

Jaina smiled. "Yes, Jag's waiting. He will be so happy –"

"No." Shawnkyr snatched Jaina's wrist, her fingers digging in painfully. "Waited you for. Too long. Too late."

"No, not too late." Befuddled, Jaina shook her head. "I'm here now."

Shawnkyr's eyes were frenzied. "Good you too late. Jag accepted command. Deserves. Cannot stop it. For not even you."

Without another word the red eyes rolled back into her head and Shawnkyr lost consciousness.

The rest of the rescue went by in a blur. Lowering the tall Chiss to the waiting medical team several floors below was not as difficult as Jaina feared. The lift's emergency repulsor skid - a tiny yet sturdy platform equipped with a strong antigrav emitter - assembled rather easily, and Shawnkyr thankfully remained unconscious for the entire rescue. After that Jaina used the skid to retrieve, one by one, the remaining injured and finally the bodies. Not until she was able to climb back down the shaft did Jaina take time to reflect on Shawnkyr's odd declaration.

While Jaina knew Shawnkyr's mental state had been significantly altered, she still felt there was some truth in the Chiss' words. Not only truth, though. Also some deep-seated fear, or maybe even resentment, spilling forth from a being who was otherwise inscrutable.

_Jag accepted command._

Shawnkyr's words echoed silently in Jaina's mind as she swung through the open lift doors. She landed awkwardly and had to catch herself on all fours, days of endless fighting coupled with the latest excursion having taken their toll on her body. Straightening, she saw Jag standing a few meters away. A smile slipped across her lips and she began to walk in his direction – until a strange empty sensation awakened within her chest. She hesitated to let the moment pass.

Several Chiss stood attentively around Jag. He queried one, then listened to the answer, his face reflecting the grim leadership mask Jaina had become accustomed to during the war. But its somber impression was deceiving. In her heart she knew this was when Jag was at his finest. His mind worked like a fine-tuned computer, weighing odds, calculating risks, minimizing losses, all with practiced ease.

_Deserves._

In her ramblings Shawnkyr had been right about one thing. Jag deserved something like this. Even though Ambassadorship had taken him away from a true command position, the Chiss aboard this ship looked to Jag for guidance and counsel. They trusted his judgment even above Shawnkyr's, although she was their direct superior. It should have made Jaina proud; instead all she felt was hollow.

"How bad is it?"

At the unexpected question, Jaina glanced to her left and found the same heavy-set Chiss sergeant who had provided her with the rescue supplies. "Bad?"

"How bad is the damage to the lift?" he clarified.

"Right." Jaina couldn't fight the urge to avert her eyes to watch Jag a second longer. "The lift is a loss. It couldn't be much worse, actually."

"You should not worry so, Knight Solo."

She eyed the Chiss once more. "Worry?"

"Fear not. The state of the _Rising Storm_ will not change the high regard for Ambassador Fel. He will always be considered one of our finest."

Jaina bit down the urge to question the meaning of _always_. Time enough to ask Jag later. "I would hope so," she said instead. "No one can ever foresee actions taken beyond reason like what happened today."

The sergeant's red eyes blazed. "Perhaps, but some Chiss may not see it that way."

Chiss political wrangling was beyond Jaina, even after in depth discussion with Jag. She simply blinked in response.

"What I meant was, we will have the _Rising Storm_ returned to its original working order prior to the Ambassador taking his leave," the Chiss added.

Jaina couldn't help but look to Jag, who was dictating orders just out of earshot. "Do you have enough time?"

"Two standard weeks." The sergeant nodded thoughtfully. "With the Ambassador overseeing the repairs, it will be sufficient."

"Two weeks," was her mumbled reply.

"Shall I take your pack?" The Chiss held out his hand.

"Oh." She handed him the hastily prepared emergency pack. "Thank you."

The Chiss eyed her curiously before departing. Abruptly he turned back and said, "Please assure the Ambassador that this incident will not tarnish his esteem throughout the Ascendancy. Those who have had the honor to serve under him would never allow it."

_Cannot stop it._

Jaina simply nodded; needing more than ever to be with Jag, she looked in his direction. He had left the ring of Chiss officers and was now striding over to her.

"Are you hurt?"

"Hurt?"

His eyes focused down and she followed his gaze. Only then did she notice she was scratching at a raw spot on her arm. She inspected it curiously, looking for a cut or wound that would give her cause to itch – and found nothing. "I don't think so…"

_For not even you._

TKL/dl


	5. Guilty

**_Guilty_**

"I think I'll hit the sonic shower."

Jag followed Jaina with his eyes as she stripped off the utilities she had worn throughout the day and deposited them at the refresher's threshold. She didn't even bother to look back before disappearing into the tiny room. "Jay?"

She paused, barely glancing over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?" He didn't want to worry, because everything should have been perfect. There was just something…

"I'm just tired." With that, she vanished behind the sliding door.

Jag nodded to himself, reassured that was it. Jaina was tired. In fact, they were all tired after the events of the past two weeks. Not one crew member aboard the _Rising Storm_ had worked less than two shifts a day since the suicide attack on the bridge. Even Shawnkyr had heaved her wounded body from the medward to assist in the repairs. Now the mended cruiser was close to fully operational. The sublight engines were winding through their warm-up sequence; the trip home wasn't that far in the future at this pace.

At the thought of Csilla, Jag moved to the comm station and keyed in his private code. Typically he would initiate any communication through the central station, but this was one transmission he wanted to keep off the ship's log. Plus he needed to get it done fast, before Jaina finished. After he completed the necessary input the flat screen fuzzed with static before coalescing into a familiar image.

"Hello, Father."

"Son." Sitting at his personal workstation in the Fel family estate, Soontir hesitated. "You look worse for the wear."

"Honestly, I have never been better." Jag meant it too. Yes, he had been through all the level of the hells the past fourteen days, but he had done so with Jaina at his side. "I am just tired."

"That is all?"

"It is," Jag assured him. He would have liked to offer more, but time just wasn't his ally. He pressed on. "Did you get my communiqué?"

"I did."

"Will you forward it for me?"

"You are certain it is what you truly want?"

"Yes."

His father simply sat there, motionless, for the span of several pounding heartbeats. "Then it is what I want. It will be done."

Jag let out his breath. "Thank you."

"For what it is worth, I think you are doing the right thing, son."

"I appreciate you saying so." Jag hesitated. "About Mother?"

"I have said nothing."

"Will you allow me time to tell her myself, then?"

"Uh…" Soontir cleared his throat and averted his gaze. "I will."

Jag pondered his father's odd reaction for about a millisecond, then pivoted to find Jaina standing behind him in a towel.

"Jag," she asked, "who is that?"

By the time Jag had turned around to try to explain to his father, the screen was once more static. He quickly turned back to Jaina. "Ah…filing a final report."

It was the truth. He had filed his final report as a member of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force, and he couldn't even bring himself to regret it, not with Jaina standing there before him as she was. Still, she arched an eyebrow as if she didn't quite believe him. 

"You're out of the shower quickly," he said.

She shimmied into a loose tunic, pulling her hair out from under it, letting it splay across her shoulders and down her back. "I guess." 

Tired or not, she looked absolutely beautiful; he couldn't wait any longer.

"Jaina…"  
"Jag…"

They both paused, then said in unison, "There is something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

Jag inhaled sharply, then realized that those words coming from her shouldn't be much of a surprise. For the past two weeks all they had done was work, eat, and fall into bed exhausted before starting all over again. They hadn't even had the energy to make love, let alone talk. But he knew one thing, he wanted everything out of the way so they could enjoy what he was about to share with Jaina. "You first."

After pacing across the room, Jaina extricated a pair of leggings and socks from her travel bag. She stepped into the leggings, then proceeded to sit on the bed and don the socks. Jag waited patiently for her to find whatever it was she needed to say. While Jaina was good at vocalizing witty barbs and taunts in the heat of battle, she had never been good at expressing herself when it got right down to the finer details of intimate conversation.

With the second sock half on, she paused. "When exactly does your new commission begin?" 

Jag tensed, a shiver racing up his spine. At the same time he fought a boiling rage deep inside his gut, rage against whoever had revealed his secret. He had thought the crew more loyal than this. "Who told you about that?"

"So it's true?"

"Yes, I had been given the rare honor of commanding the Fifth Fleet." 

"The Nuruodo Fleet?" Jaina's eyes widened. "Impressive. Congratulations."

She had said the words, but there was nothing genuine in their delivery. "It is an honor," he said. 

"But not enough of an honor to share with me, I guess?" 

Jag crossed to the bed. "When was there time? Was I supposed to stop in the middle of a repair weld just to mention I happened to earn one of the most highly coveted command spots in the Fleet and that I'd –" He caught himself before he finished. Time enough for the whole truth once they settled this matter. Jag placed a hand on her forearm. "Jaina –"

"Don't touch me!" She shook his hand away like a bothersome shoikler. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "I can't believe you kept this from me."

"But –"

"Unless you were afraid I'd leave if I knew the truth."

"Jaina, you know that's not –"

"Maybe you just wanted to be sure to get that one last tumble in the sack for old times' sake." 

"I would never –"

"Or was it payback for all the time you had to wait for me?" She shook, her eyes full of more fire than a Chiss on the glacierpanther hunt.

He snagged her forcefully by the shoulders. "Will you let me explain?"

"Why!" She whipped her arms upward, breaking his grip. She stood abruptly. "You had plenty of _time_ to explain."

Jag fumbled for the right words. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. His fate was sealed, the letter of resignation away. He had sacrificed everything for Jaina, yet she stood before him accusing him of every dishonorable act imaginable. Couldn't she see that he loved her beyond compare? Where had he gone so wrong?

"I see you really do have nothing to say," she spat before stalking away. Her overnight bag flipped across the room and she swiped it from the air.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving," she said quietly.

Jag shut his eyes as tight as he could, then wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. He tried to banish the burning memory of the last time he had seen Jaina before Tenupe. She had marched from the room without even so much as a look back. He had thought she would only take a few hours to come to her senses, not blast off the _Rising Storm_ in a fit of rage. Jaina's actions weren't rational even by her standards. By the time he had received word, there was no power within his grasp to make Jaina stay.

In retrospect one question flogged Jag endlessly – _Why didn't you just tell her?_

"Jag?" 

At the sound of Jaina's voice, he froze. Had he said that aloud? Pushing himself beyond his physical limitations, like he had been for the past two days, had left him weary and his mind adrift. He could have…

"_Jag_." There was something insistent in her tone.

His mind scrambling for an explanation that didn't make him appear as addle-brained as he felt, he turned slowly – to find himself staring down the barrel of Jaina's Deathhammer blaster. Past the imposing muzzle, Jaina wore an expression he knew all too well. She meant business. Deadly business. 

When she started clicking in that strange bug language, Jag realized how badly he'd misjudged her. But he wasn't going to go down without a fight. His hand inched toward his own weapon – 

"Drop!" Jaina's mouth hadn't moved, but he had heard her voice inside his head clearly.

Instinct took over. He dove, rolling into the jungle undergrowth. Simultaneously he heard multiple volleys of blaster fire interspersed with loud clicking and an insectoid screech. By the time he somersaulted to his feet, Jaina had disappeared in a tumbling mass of yellow-green chitin. Nearby another large Killik thrashed and clacked its pincers; a large hole in its thorax section oozed purple fluid.

Jag ran forward, his blaster drawn, and took aim at the wounded bug. Shot after shot flew through the gaping wound, ripping apart the alien flesh. The bug howled, rising up to its hind limbs in a last desperate attempt to fight back, then flailed backwards.

Not even sparing a second to watch the bug's dying gasps, Jag spun toward Jaina. She was pinned beneath an enormous insect, holding its mandibles apart inches from her face. She writhed and rolled as the Killik attempted to spear her with another set of limbs.

"A little help," she rasped.

Jag aimed and squeezed. The pair – Jaina and the bug – twisted around each other. He yanked his shot away, the blast singeing a nearby tree. Appraising his blaster, Jag realized it was insufficient for the need.

On cue the Deathhammer skittered out of the brush, almost as if Jaina had read his mind.

"Now shoot it!" She punched the beast in the mouth and it shrieked in rage.

"Stay still," he barked.

"Easier said –" she jerked her head to the side to avoid a plunging strike "- than done."

He closed one eye, picking his target carefully. "Well, try."

Jaina cried out, and Jag fired. He kept firing. The Deathhammer was a magnificent weapon. The first blast removed the chitin armor; the remaining boiled the bug's innards. It fell away after only four shots.

Rolling over, Jaina clutched her side. "Oh kriff! That hurt."

Jag knelt beside her. "Let me see."

She ignored him and sat up to inspect the wound. "If the withdrawal isn't bad enough…" 

Jag noted the spread of red across her utilities. "I'll get the medkit –"

"Don't bother." She struggled to her feet. "The ship is right around the bend."

Standing, Jag gently balanced Jaina by the elbow. Jerking her arm away, she marched ahead. This part of the ravine was more heavily vegetated than the deeper areas. She detoured around a cluster of trees, crashing into a tangle of undergrowth. He followed, stopping abruptly as they emerged into a clearing.

Parked exactly in the center, the _Millennium Falcon_ harkened back to memories of better, happier times. In fact, a few too many good times, including their first –

"You coming?" Jaina grunted while she waited for the lowering ramp.

Jag swallowed, realizing he had better not think such thoughts anyway. He jogged after her, right up the ramp. At the top, Jaina paused to tap a sequence into a control panel. The ramp began to hiss, lifting right under his feet, and the soft rumble of warming engines came from deeper in the ship. Then she walked down the corridor leading to the crew bunks, not toward the cockpit.

Jaina was already rifling through the emergency supplies by the time Jag caught up to her. "They were waiting for us." Her eyes lit up, and she revealed a familiar hyposyringe. Without hesitation she plunged it against her skin.

"You had some spares," he noted as he began to sort through the mess she had made in the supply case.

"Three more." She settled on the small bunk. "Enough to get me through returning you to your ship and then back to Mon Cal."

"Oh." Something about her words cut into him, but Jag pushed it aside. "Found a bacta patch."

"Perfect. Just slap that thing on and we'll be on our way." Jaina started to unzip her utility, then stopped. "Uh, I can do it."

He ignored the blush to her cheeks. "That wound penetrates all the way to your back. You'll need my help." 

She stared at him, unblinking. He simply stared back. 

"Fine," she hissed and began to wrestle her arms out of the sleeves. "Ahhhh."

When Jaina froze, Jag tentatively reached for the top of her utility. He touched her skin accidentally and pulled his hand away. Fighting the heat in his cheeks, he resumed his effort. In an awkward dance they managed to extricate her from the utility top without inflicting much more pain.

Taking care to look only at the wound, Jag used a disposable antiseptic sponge to clean it. "You said you thought they were waiting for us."

"They must have seen the _Falcon_ and figured we'd be back." She sat quietly, only flinching once.

"So they weren't friends of yours." While he debrided the exit point on her back, Jag let his eyes stray to the scar he had seen before. 

She stiffened suddenly. "Obviously not. Look, can you just get that patch on so I can get us off this forsaken rock?"

Jag did as she asked, and a minute later they were heading toward the cockpit. Jaina paused outside one of the small rooms, the one Jag remembered as her sleeping quarters. She avoided eye contact. "I'm going to change. You remember the navcomp start up, I presume?" 

"I think I can manage."

They both stepped to Jag's left, then to the right in an attempt to get out of each other's way. Finally he stepped back and motioned her into the room. Once the door swished shut he couldn't bring himself to head for the cockpit immediately. Clenching a fist, he shook his head and strode down the hall.

The navcomputer was fully operational by the time Jaina arrived. He had not dared fiddle with any of the other systems. The Solo operational manual was so far beyond his understanding he didn't even begin to try. She plopped into the co-pilot's chair and motioned Jag into her father's customary seat.

When he hesitated she said, "Mom's seat fits better. I can fly fine from here."

Running through the start-up procedure was a welcome distraction. Jaina performed her ritualistic flight preparation, asking Jag for assistance on occasion. For the most part he simply stayed out of her way. It wasn't until they were blasting from the atmosphere that he broached the one subject troubling him.

"Where are you going to take me?"

She tapped a sequence into the tactical sensors and the array lit up with a field of red dots indicating a sizable fleet still over planet. "The Chiss have control over Tenupe space after the treaty. I'll take you back to your fleet, of course."

"I want you to take me to the _Rising Storm_." 

Jaina glanced sideways at him. "But the _Storm_ isn't part of the Fifth Fleet?"

"Neither am I," Jag noted dryly.

She opened her mouth to ask another question, then thought better of it. "The _Rising Storm_ it is." After a glance at the tactical sensors, she rolled the _Falcon_ into a climb before handing Jag a headset. "Do your thing."

Initial contact with the _Rising Storm_ did not go as well as Jag would have hoped. The communications officer was reluctant to release clearance. Finally, a familiar voice sounded in his ear. "Commander Fel, you are always welcome aboard the _Rising Storm_. Please proceed to Hanger Bay Rhuno. Nuruodo out."

"Clearance acknowledged." Jag offered a silent thank you to Shawnkyr.

He glanced over at Jaina to relay the message, but she beat him to the punch. "I got it," she snipped.

From that point they flew in silence. Jaina guided the _Falcon_ in a slow arc toward the smaller hangar bay Shawnkyr had designated. She landed with slightly less than her usual flare, which Jag attributed to her injury and withdrawal symptoms. Figuring it would be better for Jaina if she received medical attention sooner rather than later, he unsnapped his restraints before the freighter had completely settled on its landing struts.

"Well I guess this is –"

"Uh, Jag?" 

The tone of her voice caused alarm claxons to blare in his mind, and he looked out the viewport. His heart pounded to a horrified halt. Chiss commandos streamed from every direction, their weapons trained on the _Falcon_. Sealing their doom, the hangar bay's blast shield slammed shut.

Jag jumped to his feet. "There must be some mistake."

Then a Chiss officer dressed in white strode to the front of the commando line. Jag cursed.

"What's going on?"

"Qunonyelin." He didn't even know where to begin with an explanation. "Don't worry. It's me he wants."

"Oh, I'm not worried." Jaina began charging up the _Falcon_'s weapons.

Jag grabbed her nearest hand. "Jaina, that is not a good idea. Qunonyelin is one of the best tactical minds in the Chiss fleet. He'll be ready for anything you have got."

"I doubt it."

As if to emphasize Jag's point, the commando line peeled back to allow a tensile disruptor to be rolled into position. 

Qunonyelin held up a communication device, and Jaina slapped open the ship's comm line. "We ain't buying what you're selling, buddy."

Qunonyelin's rough Basic rumbled over the speaker. "_I doubt your father would like his valuable ship returned in pieces, Knight Solo._" He nodded to the disruptor operator and almost instantly the tip began to glow.

"Shavit," Jaina muttered.

Jag looked from the admiral to Jaina and back. He was positive this was about an old family grudge, and Qunonyelin only meant to embarrass Jag for having needed to be rescued by a Jedi, Jaina Solo no less. They would hold him, question him in regards to consorting with the enemy, and after some political wrestling Jag would be returned to his fleet command. When Shawnkyr stepped to the Qunoyelin's side, Jag knew he would get some answers.

She took the comlink and addressed them. "_Jaina, I assure you no harm will come to you while onboard the_ Rising Storm. _Admiral Qunonyelin is simply taking precautionary measures to protect the Ascendency's interests. The Admiral has given me his word that you will be returned to Alliance space after answering a few questions._"

Looking quickly to Jaina, Jag noted the trembling in her limbs and rigid set of her jaw. She was battling herself as hard as she battled any opponent. Abruptly, she dropped back into her mother's seat. "I'm tired of fighting."

Jag let out his breath in a controlled hiss. "Shawnkyr is an honorable Chiss. If she says nothing will happen –"

"Just drop it, Jag." She slapped at the controls, powering down the _Falcon_ and securing systems. "I'll answer your admiral's questions so I can get off this sorry excuse for a warship."

There wasn't much more Jag could offer. He trusted Shawnkyr implicitly, even if their relationship had been strained over the last couple of years. Jag wasn't even sure what had happened between them. Perhaps he had simply been too cold in the months after departing the _Rising Storm_. No matter, Shawnkyr would always be his friend; he had faith in that.

Jag quietly walked with Jaina to the boarding ramp. Side by side they continued to the hangar floor. Suddenly Jaina swore, reaching for her blaster.

Instantly a dozen commandos had her trained in their sights. Jag stepped forward with his hands raised. He ordered them in Cheunh to hold their fire. Luckily for Jag his reputation gave them reason to pause, and he took the opportunity to turn back to Jaina. "Ease off the weapon, Jaina."

She was shaking violently, her fingers itching toward the weapon. "They've got ysalamiri."

"Jaina." He inched her direction and reached for her hand. Slowly he drew it away from the weapon. As he gazed into her eyes, the commandos rushed them. "I will take care of this."

With the Force now stripped from her, he finally realized how terrible the withdrawal symptoms must have been. Her brow was beading with sweat; her lips quivered. She reflexively wrapped her arms around her midsection, at least until a Chiss snatched her wrists and wrestled her into a restraining hold. She was confined in stuncuffs before either of them recognized what was happening.

As the commandos physically separated them, Jag demanded, "What is going on?"

Qunonyelin appeared. "Knight Solo is under arrest."

Shawnkyr stepped out from behind the admiral. "Arrest, sir? You said nothing about –" 

"I did not realize I had to explain my intentions to you, Commander," the admiral snapped back.

Jaina was already being led away by the time Jag absorbed the situation. For a second she resisted, looking back over her shoulder at him. Then the Chiss on either side tugged her by the arms, and she followed relectantly. 

After she was out of sight, Jag approached the admiral with all the civility and control he could muster. "Knight Solo is a member of the Galactic Alliance. Her actions in a time of war cannot be considered –"

"Her actions in a time of war were not sanctioned by the Galactic Alliance, the Jedi Council, or what passed for the Killik government. Knight Solo is no better than the pirates she has arrested and cleansed from the galaxy. Therefore, she will be treated accordingly."

Everyone in the Ascendency knew the Chiss punishment for piracy. Even Jag.

Shawnkyr stepped between Jag and the admiral a millisecond before Jag would have lunged. "You gave your word, sir, that you would return Knight Solo to Alliance space after she answered a few questions." 

Qunonyelin's eyes blazed. "And my word is true, Commander Nuruodo. Knight Solo will be returned to the Galactic Alliance when I am finished questioning her. Following her execution, she will be returned to her next of kin in a box."

TKL/dl 


	6. Revelation

**_Revelation_**

"Would you just give it a rest?"

Jaina rose from her seat, pausing when her senses swirled abruptly from the change in position. She couldn't afford to appear less determined – or less annoyed – after her outburst, though, so she used the Force to find her center and stalked from the room. The whole insanity of watching Tesar throw live bugs into the air and catch them in his mouth was just too much. It was beyond Jaina why the others encouraged the Barabel's eating game, unless perhaps they just enjoyed a wee bit too much the look of disgust on her face.

Arriving in the kitchen, which was shared among the small group of Jedi housed in this suite, Jaina began to pound and bang her way through the cupboards. What exactly she was looking for, she wasn't entirely sure. All she knew was that she wanted the others to stop, and that watching all the eating had made her very hungry.

Finally settling on the juri fruit wraps and nerfjerky, Jaina plopped unceremoniously into one of the chairs set at the kitchen table. While gnawing on the jerky, she tried to ignore the snorting and sissing coming from the living area. Lowie brayed over the other Jedi – Tesar, Tahiri, and Zekk – and the hilarity compounded exponentially. They really didn't seem to care that their ridiculous antics upset her.

Jaina finished the jerky and moved onto the fruit wraps. If she were honest, she couldn't really pinpoint what exactly about the whole situation bothered her. Perhaps she was still just being a stick in the Dagobah mud; admittedly, she hadn't been much fun since returning from Granjanjin. Maybe they just had been trying to distract her. Guilt made tears well in her eyes.

Suddenly disgusted by the notion, Jaina sprang to her feet. She paced from the kitchen and back into the main living space. The other Jedi paused, trying mostly unsuccessfully to quell their pleasure as she passed. Tahiri gagged on a laugh; a low rumbling emanated from Lowie. She would have continued to the front door without giving them a second glance – except for the flicking of Tesar's tail as she passed.

"What?" she snapped at the reptile.

Tesar hissed while approximating a human expression of disinterest. The telltale sliver of the Barabel's irises told Jaina otherwise. Suddenly, Tesar's tongue shot out at the same instant a Shanghi shoikler – a larger, uglier variety of the insect – flew from somewhere near Jaina's left ear. She watched as the Barabel chomped on the bug, its wings still flapping, then had to look away when a wave of nausea rolled up from the pit of her stomach.

Jaina covered her mouth and ran. Skidding into the refresher just off the common room, she barely made it to the washbasin before the heaving overcame her. Her body seemed genuinely offended by the vision of Tesar…Jaina let that thought go as she felt her insides erupt anew. Between her retching, she felt the concerned stares of the others. With a wave of her hand, Jaina willed the refresher door closed. Finally alone and hopefully relieved of her entire stomach contents – there couldn't have been any more – Jaina slumped to the cool tile floor.

This time tears came whether she wanted them to or not. Her face buried in her palms, Jaina did not try to fight them. For more than a standard month she had told herself that it would be better, that the pain in her heart would stop. Why had she done it? Why had she run away again? She hadn't even given him a chance to explain…

Jaina had a hard time even thinking his name.

Jag.

Jag, the man she had loved and to whom she had wanted to dedicate her life. But something had happened. He had kept a secret, and she had resented it.

No, she had feared that after all her dawdling Jag had found something better. She had feared he would do to her what she had done to him. She might even have deserved it, but in reflection, not once had Jag's heart been anything but true. To be honest, the whole idea of the commission didn't even make sense. The commission itself made sense, all right, because he certainly deserved it. But she couldn't understand why he had hidden the truth from her. He had wanted to tell her something that evening she had left. If only she had listened.

Then, in the moment, Jaina had believed she was so utterly in the right. Now she wasn't so sure, especially with a constant hollow ache gnawing at her heart.

"Jaina?" A tentative knocking accompanied the sound of Zekk's voice outside the refresher door.

She wiped her nose on her sleeve. How long had she been here? Her lower back ached and legs cramped on the floor.

"Jaina?"

"Go. Away."

"Jaina, I don't want bother you, but we thought maybe you might let the One-Bee have a look at you."

Her initial reaction was to balk, but that kind of blasting from the hip had gotten her nowhere recently. Actually it had gotten her to this sad state, a miserable sodden mess on the refresher floor. And she had been feeling sick since that stopover on Yargon Minor. "Oh-kay."

The door slid open and a head of rambunctious black hair appeared. A hand flicked the bangs aside to reveal Zekk's green eyes. Jaina's breath caught at the sight, and she suddenly knew just how absolutely wrong she had been on the _Rising Storm_. She was sick and miserable, and all she wanted was to look into Jag's green eyes and for him to tell her everything was going to be all right.

Zekk must have sensed something from her, because he retreated, leaving room for Tahiri to slip past. The petite blonde offered Jaina a hand. Once on her feet, Jaina followed Tahiri to the small room they shared. Zekk arrived with the One-Bee in tow. He and Tahiri nodded awkwardly, then left Jaina alone with medical droid.

After a few minutes of examination, Jaina became impatient. "Can't you just give me an antiviral and some anti-nausea pills? I probably picked up the Yargonian flu –"

"An antiviral will not remedy what ails you, Knight Solo," the droid answered matter-of-factly.

"Well, what will, then?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

Jaina stiffened. "Hey, it's my body. You better say, you bucket of bolts."

"Now…" The One-Bee shuffled backwards, then found itself flying into the door from a Force shove. "Yee-oww!"

The snap-hiss of a lightsaber ended any further protest. Jaina held the weapon dangerously close to the droid's cranial shell. "Change your mind yet?"

"Medical protocols suggest that I should confer with a healer-aaack! Please don't spear me! Please!"

Jaina twisted her wrist so the blade hummed from its newer, closer position.

"But there are allowances," the droid continued.

"I'm waiting."

"Yes. Your condition."

"What will fix it?" Jaina asked anxiously. 

"Nothing, but in approximately forty-five standard weeks you will begin to feel more like yourself. Until that time there are certain holistic remedies –"

"Forty-five weeks!" 

"Why, of course, Knight Solo. That is the remaining gestational period I have estimated for your pregnancy."

"What did you say?"

"You are not sick, Knight Solo. Simply pregnant."

"But… That's impossible. I am religious about my…" Jaina stumbled back and fell to a sitting position on the small bunk. Images of the attack on the _Rising Storm_ flashed before her eyes. "Oh gods. I did miss…one."

The droid might have said more, but all Jaina remembered was lying on the bed holding herself. She didn't really recall how she had gotten there. And she only half-registered Zekk's and Tahiri's concerned faces, and the hairy paw of Lowbacca trying to console her. There were all concerned, but had little to offer other than kind words. They didn't understand. They never would, and Jaina was unable to explain.

At some point, she shut them out and curled into a ball, trying to find a center, wishing Jag were there to tell her everything would be fine. He had always been that for her, even when the war had been brutally tough. A center in the storm. Her rock. In the middle of her wishing, Jaina realized Jag really was…there. In a sense.

Ever so gently, a tiny inkling of Jag nudged at her psyche, reminding her that in her womb was the best of both of them. Suddenly, Jaina had no doubts. If there had ever been the Force shoving a glaring sign her way, it was now. In this moment.

Jaina wrapped her arms around her torso and pulled her knees into her chest. She still felt unsettled and incredulous, but she knew what she needed to do. First though, she needed to rest. Jaina shut her eyes and let sleep overtake her.

Shivering, Jaina hugged her arms tighter to her body. The chill had ripped her from a restless slumber. The Chiss must have turned down the temperature controls. No doubt they were trying to throw her off balance before the next interrogation session.

Slowly she opened her eyes. The stark walls and spartan furnishings were unwelcoming at best. The memories - of years gone by and opportunities lost to her failings as a person - weren't the best company, either. Worst of all, the ravages of her withdrawal had been magnified to intolerable levels without access to the remaining hypos. The cold was insignificant compared to the havoc her own body was wreaking on her.

In her weakened state, she had hoped that cooperating with the Chiss interrogators would at the very least have gotten her the withdrawal medicine. Oddly enough, though, they barely had seemed interested in her answers, let alone in keeping her in satisfactory shape to give them coherently. The newest tack only added to Jaina's suspicions. 

Rolling over on the lone hard shelf, which extended from the wall to serve as a seat or bed, Jaina wondered if she were even going to make it out of this alive. Relief from the constant pounding in her head and gnawing ache in her gut was tempting, even if it meant a permanent end to her suffering. She clenched her fingers into balled fists to fight the nagging urge to rip her skin off to release the pressure stirring inside her. She bit back a sob. Yes, something permanent, and a softer hue than these bleak walls, was beginning to seem quite appealing –

Suddenly the door to her cell swished open. A guard dressed in the traditional Chiss full body armor, including faceshield, hustled into the room. Jaina pushed up onto one elbow, scrutinizing the new arrival. At the same time, he cocked his head as if to size her up.

There was something not exactly right about him. It didn't take long for her to figure it out. "Aren't you a little short for a Chiss?"

"What? Oh... the uniform." He whipped off his mask. "I'm Cem Fel. I'm here to rescue you."

Jaina sat up, blinking in disbelief at the brown-haired, blue-eyed version of Jag. "You're who?"

"I'm here to rescue you. Jag sent me."

"Jag sent you!" She realized she was standing, and for once her heart was pounding louder than her head. "Where is he?"

"Come on!" Jag's odd-colored clone disappeared back into the cellblock corridor before she could get closer.

Her first inclination was to charge after him. Her second was to pause and evaluate the situation. Was this some kind of trick? A Chiss ploy? Who was this Jag look-alike? And what was his name? Immersed in the void bubble from the ysalamiri spread around her, Jaina had no way of using the Force to judge his sincerity or the situation.

The supposed Fel popped his head back into the cell. "We've got to hurry."

When all else failed, Jaina's gut instincts were always her saving grace. She trusted her feelings again, and trailed him to the spot where he was plastered to the corridor wall. He raised a hand to silence her before poking his head more towards the center of the hallway. Stepping away, he motioned for her to follow. They skirted the walls in silence until reaching the guard station. A lone Chiss soldier lay slumped over the controls.

Her rescuer tugged the Chiss upright in his seat. The guard began to moan – until a swift, skillful nerve pressure pinch at the base of the his skull rendered him unconscious once more.

"Jag said you could deal with this fellow's memory?"

"Um…" At first Jaina thought the suggestion was absurd. She was as Force-blind as a hawkbat – 

She took a step deeper into the guard station, and the Force flooded into her. But for now, she was more interested in the man standing before her. "Who are you?"

"Cem Fel, and I'm- "

"Here to rescue me. Yeah yeah, I got that part." She arched an eyebrow, scrutinizing his features. In the Force, she sensed the same distinct impression she felt around Jag: powerful and vibrant. Yet he was vitally different from Jag in many ways – raw, compulsive, less tempered, to the point of verging on dangerous. "But Jag doesn't have a brother."

"Sure he does," Cem countered with a half-cocked smile.

"Not any live ones." 

Something in Cem changed. The smile receded, and his eyes darkened. Just for a second. Just as quickly, though, a toothier grin appeared. "You'll have to take my word for it, Jaina. Besides, there's no mistaking the Fel good looks, right?"

She couldn't argue with him there. Except the hair and eyes, Cem was Jag in every way, right down to his very fine…She fought a blush and failed miserably.

Luckily for Jaina, Cem misread the signs completely. "Are you ill? From the…ah, side effects?" 

Shaking her head, she leaned down to the comatose Chiss and placed her hands on either side of his head. Wiping his mind was going to be a feat of nearly impossible magnitude in her current condition, but she really didn't have any other choice. Falling into the Force, she asked, "What does he need to remember?" 

"Just make him think he dozed off."

Jaina nodded, and shut her eyes.

"All he'll get is a couple days of _khata'no_ duty – "

Opening her eyes, she shot Cem an intimidating stare. "Do you mind?"

His mouth flapped shut, and he stilled. Jaina returned to the task at hand, delving into the Chiss' mind. With the alien consciousness the best she could manage was to strip his recent memories and implant the idea of exhaustion. It would have to do. The effort alone drained her almost completely, and she still had a ways to go before she was out of this predicament. With a slight dip of the head, Jaina indicated she was ready.

Cem grabbed her by the hand, tugging her toward the door. "We'd better get moving."

Jaina didn't quite know what to make of this new Fel, except that his demeanor was about as different from Jag's as she could imagine. He was unpredictable, leading her along a seemingly irrational route through the _Rising Storm_. He showed flashes of raw emotion from time to time, including when a security patrol passed down a crossing corridor causing him to curse and scramble for cover. And unlike his _brother_, Cem wasted no time in getting up close and personal. It had taken Jag years to hold Jaina's hand let alone plaster himself bodily to Jaina. Yet here they were, his arms wrapped around her protectively, holding her back against his chest, as they waited in the shadows for the security contingent to pass.

As he led her back into the corridor, Jaina asked, "Where's Jag?"

"Staying seen," Cem answered matter-of-factly.

"Oh." Jaina snatched her hand back. "So he's going to let his brother take the fall if the plan goes wrong."

Cem reversed and came back to her. "First of all, nothing's going to go wrong. Second, Jag reviewed this plan down to the last detail. He'll be readily noticeable during the entire time your escape took place, and no one will be the wiser." 

"And what about you?"

"The Chiss believe the same thing you did – Jag has no other living brothers. This whole incident will be chalked up to Jedi resilience." He snatched her hand again and started jogging down the hall. "Now, seriously, we've got to hurry."

Jaina tried to make sense of this whole string of events, yet her head couldn't quite wrap itself around everything. The withdrawal symptoms plagued her body to the point her mind was functioning at barely passable levels. Certainly not at the efficient clip needed for unplanned escapes. She was even having trouble remembering how had she ended up a Chiss captive. After the war was over? What did they want from her? Who was this man, really? How could the Chiss not know he was Jag's brother? And did Jag really have a sibling he had never told her about?

Before she could possibly start to organize the whirlwind of questions, Cem drew up behind a stack of cartons at the end of a small service passage. He checked his wristchrono and smiled. "Perfect. In exactly thirty seconds, the acting patrol will notice a remote sensor being tripped in the passageway directly opposite from here. They will respond, leaving you fifteen seconds to get from here to the _Falcon_." He moved from her line of sight into the hangar. "Do you see it?"

She noted her father's ship berthed just as she had left it, and nodded.

Removing the lid from the top carton, Cem withdrew a small pack. "In here are your weapon and some supplies. There is also a datacard with preprogrammed coordinates for three microjumps that should clear you from the system. Jag wishes you clear skies on your journey." Cem leaned forward and pecked his lips to Jaina's brow as he shoved the pack into her hand. "Good luck. You've got ten seconds."

As he hurried away, Jaina stood stunned, her mouth agape. She might have remained that way if she hadn't noticed the patter of boots across the hangar floor. This was it.

Drawing in a deep breath, she peeked into the hangar. When the vector to the _Falcon_'s ramp appeared clear, she ventured into the open. Meeting no initial opposition, she broke into a run. Almost to the ramp, her danger sense flared. Jaina dropped and rolled as a laser bolt whizzed past. When she rose to her feet, she was out of line with the ramp. She corrected, but then had to reverse to avoid a second shot.

She had the blaster halfway out of the pack when a bolt caught her across the hip. Muffling a cry of pain, Jaina shunted the energy as best she could. She felt her body absorb some of the effects, but her knees still buckled. Her weapon skittered over the polished floor. 

Fighting to regain her footing, Jaina sensed another impending attack. This one was closer and personal. She raised her arm to deflect a blow and caught the downward swipe of a stun stick. Using the momentum of the attacker against him, she twisted it around to an unnatural position and broke the Chiss' hold. Now armed, she barely managed to block an attack from another angle.

In a matter of seconds, Jaina had five Chiss commandos whipping around her, each bent on taking her out of the fight for good. Jaina blocked, countered, and parried in a blinding haze. She allowed the Force to guide her actions, but even so her mind was laboring to keep up. One hit made it past her defenses. Then another.

She fought back, using the outrage of her pain-filled mind to fuel her weary body.

It wasn't enough. A stun stick slipped past, jolting her ribs. A second rapped the wound in her side. A final decisive blow whacked into the base of her skull. The bright hangar went black.


	7. Deception

**_Deception_**

Not moving a muscle, Jag stood ramrod stiff. He had been in this position for so long, the ache was becoming a numbness. Jag called on years of unrelenting physical training to hold his form, to pretend that every drop of his attention was focused on the speaker pontificating at the podium.

While his body paid the Granjanjin Magistrate full respect, Jag's mind was light years away, swimming on the event horizon of despair. He should have known it had all been too good to be true. He should have known the time spent with Jaina on the _Rising Storm_ was simply the last brilliant flash of a dying star. Now all that remained was the hollow nothingness of his heart. The aches gnawing at his body paled in comparison.

Sensing his commanding officer's proximity before she dared whisper in his ear, Jag turned his head aside to disguise their discussion. "What is it, Colonel?"

Shawnkyr leaned closer. "There appears to be some unusual activity in the plaza's northwestern quadrant."

Jag glanced past the dome of Shawnkyr's ebony hair and spotted the _Storm_'s Chief of Security waiting just off the dais. To an outsider he might have appeared as unaffected as a rock on a glacier plane, but Jag knew better. The simple fact that the Chief had bothered to deliver the news personally was troubling. The Granjanjin Magistrate had assured Jag that the last holdouts of the insurgency had been taken into custody, including the group responsible for the attack on the _Rising Storm_.

The Magistrate had been eager to make this public address; Jag had been just as eager for much different reasons. The sooner the Chiss formalized their ties, the sooner Jag could move on. He wanted to put the _Rising Storm_ and Granjanjin as far behind him as possible. Command of the Fifth Fleet was going to be exactly what he needed to distract him from the woes in his life. If nothing else, his father's insight had served –

"Sir," Shawnkyr hissed in his ear. "Should we move our teams?"

He could not delay making a tricky decision. But his thoughts on the matter were no easier to rectify than a single snowflake among the blizzard. "Do what you think best."

She dipped her head in understanding, then signaled to the Security Chief. To most, the Chiss mobilization would be transparent, but Jag watched it unfold like a ribbon of blue moving among a sea of colorless beings. The whole time Magistrate Pomo'ador droned on and the crowd cheered in adoration. Between the waving arms and rattling banners, Chiss commandos slithered toward the northwest quadrant of the immense indigin stone plaza. Another team of Chiss banked over the side of a northern building, rappelling toward the street level. On a western tower, Jag could make out the flash of a sniper's scope.

It all happened in less than a minute. The Magistrate never stopped proclaiming his new policy of freedom and the crowd never wavered in their laudations – until the Chiss contingent made its move.

At first only a ripple of movement gave any indication that something was amiss. The Granjanjin security detachments were quick to spot the disturbance, and in short order a quiet deterrent operation by the Chiss became a boisterous struggle for all to see. Innocent bystanders shied from the area, and happy cheers turned to shouts of fear. Soon forces – Chiss and local alike – were converging on the area from every corner of the square.

The entire focus of the crowd had shifted from the Magistrate's glorious victory speech to the unrest deep within the audience. Then a shout erupted from near the dais.

"Down with Pomo'ador!"

Jag barely had time to recognize the brilliance of the terrorists' feint. They had executed a masterful diversion while the true danger lay hidden within feet of the Magistrate all along. Drawing his weapon, Jag charged forward only to be met by a violent blast of air. His breath ripped from his lungs, and his world disappeared in a cacophony of sound and light.

"Are you all right, sir?" The voice was familiar yet distant.

He blinked, trying to assess the answer to that question.

"Jag?"

He turned and looked into the blue face of an old friend, one he wasn't sure he even knew anymore. "I am fine."

"You have been huddled at this science station for nearly two hours. You should use my office if you have more work to do," Shawnkyr offered. "It is more comfortable there."

"That won't be necessary. This station will suffice." He glanced away so she couldn't see the truth in his eyes. Some time ago there would have been no secrets between friends. Jag would never have needed to conceal the reason he had chosen to work at a public station within walking distance to the hangar. Nor would he have had to conceal the secondary monitors activated at this location behind false screens of post-Tenupe battle assessments. As it was, he needed Shawnkyr to leave, and quickly, so he could follow Cem's progress. While Jag knew his plan was brilliantly conceived, he was farthest from a fair-haired fool. For the last hour he had been taunted by the sneaking suspicion he had overlooked something.

Jag hadn't offered Shawnkyr more in the way of conversation, yet she stood there questioning him with her red eyes. Finally, she spoke. "I was hoping to find a moment to speak to you privately."

Keeping an eye on his useless datastream, Jag said, "Now is not a good time." He met her stare. "Maybe later."

"I am afraid that might be too late, Jag'ged." She never said his name formally unless it was important, and personal.

He was not about to give up his position, though. Not even for Shawnkyr. "It's private enough here."

For the most part he was right. He had chosen this station for its location. He could be seen, but not really scrutinized by anyone unless approached. After a quick glance around them, Shawnkyr said, "As you wish."

The usually straight-forward, no-nonsense Chiss hesitated, her expression marking the fact that she was choosing her words carefully. With an uncharacteristic sharp inhale, Shawnkyr began. "We have not seen much of each other these last years, my friend."

"This is true. The war and all its –"

"The war did not bring us to this point. You know this as well as I do."

"What did then, Shawnkyr?" He wanted her to get to the point – berate or chide him, whatever her pleasure – so he could get on with his task. The time to move was very near.

"Jaina."

That single word made Jag's blood run cold. Did she know? Did Shawnkyr suspect? Why bring up Jaina now? Here? He had to respond as if it was otherwise. "Certainly our relationship hasn't been the same since I left the _Rising Storm_, but you don't mean to attribute that to my separation from Jaina, do you? The timing is merely coincidental."

"The timing is farthest from coincidental, Jag'ged."

"I am not sure I follow –"

"Let me finish," Shawnkyr snapped. "I believe Jaina left the _Rising Storm_ because of something I did."

Suddenly Jag's reality began to swirl into an uncontrollable spinout. Shawnkyr explained the details of her rescue by Jaina the fateful day the _Rising Storm_ had been attacked by the Granjanjin terrorists, and how she had been more than forthright with Jaina about Jag's promotion to the Fifth Fleet while the two of them had been alone in the damaged lift.

Jag couldn't breathe.

"Some selfish part of me," she finished, "wanted you to stay."

All this time, it had been Shawnkyr. She had been one who had betrayed him.

"I can't –" Jag's protest was interrupted by the conspicuous beep of his comlink. It was the private code meaning Cem needed to talk.

Jag shook off the stun bolt of the admission. "Shawnkyr, I don't know what to think. Right now, there is nothing I can say. Except this – if you ever valued our friendship, you will honor my request now."

"Anything." 

Jag's comlink chirped more insistently. "Go."

The word came out harsher than even he had intended.

The lines around her eyes were the only outward sign that she had flinched from his rebuke. "If that is –"

"It is."

Shawnkyr looked from Jag to his comlink and back. Her lips parted like she had something to say, but then she about-faced and marched away. Jag's eyes followed her all the way down the bank of workstations. Just before she arrived the door whisked open and Cem barged into the room, forcing Shawnkyr to step aside. She turned back for a brief instant, appraising the two men, before striding from the room. 

Paying the Chiss no mind, Cem barreled over to Jag. "Do you see what's happening?"

As Jag stared in disbelief at his brother, who seemed to have tossed aside years of secrecy at this most critical of moments, Cem reached forward and smacked a few keys on the station's controls. A cam feed from the hangar popped onto the flatscreen. Turning to view it, Jag's gut felt the pain of a phantom vibroblade.

A team of Chiss commandos, marked with the telling black and silver insignias of the Fleet's finest, were bludgeoning Jaina with a brutal flurry of Jo'ahkna sticks. They whipped around her, raining blow after blow, as she tried to ward off their attack. All of Jaina's energy was directed at defending her position, so she had no chance to deliver any retaliatory strikes. It was only a matter of time –

"Are you just going to stand here?"

Jag blinked.

"They're killing her." 

"They won't kill her. The Admiral obviously has plans for Jaina."

Even as he spoke, Jag's words echoed hollow among the plethora of thoughts roiling through his mind. There was no need for the commandos to be this brutal with Jaina; they could simply have stunned her. And how was he going to explain Cem's outburst to the few Chiss still in the room who had unwittingly served as his cover? Shawnkyr had betrayed him before; had she betrayed him now? 

There was something else to this. Jag just wasn't seeing the whole picture.

"I think the picture is pretty clear, _brother_," Cem hissed.

Jag started. Had he been talking aloud? "_Koran tonah va tad oh_," he chided his secret sibling in an old Corellian dialect they both had been taught just for moments like this.

"I will not be silenced." Cem pounded a finger into Jag's chest. "_This_ is wrong."

"I gave Jaina her chance. We failed." Jag's thoughts floundered for ways to salvage the situation. In his mind, he had given Jaina more opportunity than she deserved.

"I thought you loved her? How can you let the Admiral's men make Jaina the postergirl for his anti-human agenda?" Cem refused to lower his voice, and the nearest Chiss technician cast a look of reproach in their direction.

"I owe Jaina nothing, Cem, and the Chiss have always been accommodating of our family," Jag said in a hushed tone. "Our loyalty has to be with them in the end." But as much as he tried to deny them, something about Cem's words rang true. The Admiral did have ulterior motives; there was something very amiss in all this. Jag could barely watch as the commandos dragged Jaina's limp form across the hangar.

Cem hissed in his ear. "I owe the Chiss nothing. You owe the Chiss nothing."

"We are out of options. It's that simple."

"No. There is one." 

"You certainly aren't suggesting…" His question unfinished, Jag saw the answer in his brother's glacier blue stare. 

"These are a people who denied me my birthright because of some warped sense of brutal vengeance between families that has existed for generations. I will never understand how you can say these are our people, when I, your brother, have been nothing less than a second class citizen – dead to you for all intents and purposes. They have denied me my family as much as their browbeaten ideology has denied you a chance at a happy, rich life – with Jaina at your side."

"You're talking treason!"

"So what if I am, Jag? How many times have you committed disloyalties of all sorts in the name of Jaina?" Cem placed a hand on Jag's shoulder. "Your heart has never belonged to the Chiss." 

Suddenly layers of fear and hurt began to peel away. Barriers erected of the hardest mental mettle dissolved. At his core, all this – Shawnkyr's admission, the Admiral's maneuvers, Jaina's effort to save him, Cem's words – erupted in a flash of white hot energy, melting away the last bits of trepidation and apprehension to reveal the true essence of his heart.

"Jag, you have to choose –"

But he had already chosen.

As Jag stalked across the room, Cem pounded a fist into the a palm. "I _knew_ it! I knew you still loved her."

"Jaina and I are a thing of the past. This is about honoring ties and doing what's right, not reclaiming what's irreparably damaged."

Cem paused at the door. "So you're not seeing a future with her?" 

Jag stopped too. "The glacier's momentum is unstoppable." 

There was a twinkle in Cem's eye. "Lucky me." 

Sprinting from the room, Jag cautioned his brother. "There is no turning back."

Matching Jag stride for stride, Cem shrugged. "Do I look worried?"

Jag arched an eyebrow. 

"Possibly." Cem smirked. "Maybe a little."

"Father is going to kill both of us," Jag muttered while his mind prepared for what lay ahead.

"Mother might. Father will wonder what took you so long."

Cem drew the blaster from his guard uniform. When Cem glanced over questioningly, Jag held open his uniform jacket, revealing one of his own.

"Always prepare for the worst," Cem noted.

"And hope for the best," Jag added.

The brothers nodded in grim understanding before charging around the next corner. Their weapons were leveled; their aim steady. Four shots from Jag and three shots from Cem dropped the entire unit of troopers before they knew what hit them. Arrogance had been their failing. They might have routed a lone Jedi, but they hadn't counted on two Fels on a mission.

The encounter was all but forgotten when Jag's eyes found Jaina. She laid sprawled across the floor, dropped by her wardens in the quick attack. He ran to her side and gently rolled her over.

"Jaina?"

A small moan escaped her lips, but her eyes remained shut.

"Jaina, can you hear me?"

"If your voice…that bantha dancing in…my skull…ughhh." Her eyes fluttered open. "Then yes." 

"Jag, we need to go now." Cem knelt beside him and placed a hand on Jaina's brow. "Can you stand?"

"Just…show me…the way." She struggled to rise, grabbing Cem's arm.

The brothers stood with her; each offering her support. When her legs buckled, Jag's reactions were a split second faster. Quickly shifting her in his arms, he felt some satisfaction that he had been the one to catch her.

Cem struck off down the corridor; Jag followed, carrying Jaina. The hangar, and in it the _Falcon_, was a short jog away. His life as a Chiss was minutes from over, and oddly enough Jag had no regrets.

His only regret came seconds into their escape, when they burst into the hangar and were immediately surrounded by an infinite swarm of soldiers.

TKL/dl


	8. Honor

**_Honor_**

The past couple of days were a blur. Medical tests. Meditation. Research. Soul-searching. While Jaina's thoughts had spun like an endless black hole, she had found one certainty rooted in her reality. Inside her, in her womb, was a life, part Jag, part herself, yet wholly independent. Quiet and patient, like the center of a ceaseless storm.

Jaina was going to be a mother, and she wasn't scared. Just in awe.

Careful reflection had shown her a single truth. This child was a blessing, and a sign. Something so perfect could only have been born from love, nothing less. Jaina felt this in her very core. She also had listened intently to the admonition blaring in the Force.

_Go back!_

Now Jaina had left behind the concerns of the Jedi healers and questioning stares of her roommates to journey to Granjanjin. To Jag. Her heart fluttered with excitement and anticipation. There was no guarantee Jag would welcome her back with open arms. But she had to try.

He had the right to know.

Winding through the Granjanjin courtyard, Jaina realized she wouldn't be able to tell him right away. He was otherwise occupied with matters of state. She could sense him, though, somewhere near the front. On the dais with the Magistrate. The part of her that felt compelled to see him pressed onward through the crowd, honing on the bright presence mirrored deep inside her.

She trembled. Nerves coupled with apprehension made her limbs weak. Her feet moved faster, heeding the desire to be near him, growing more certain with each step that her place was by his side. She had always been reassured by his durasteel demeanor; perhaps the need for his familiar strength was what drove her now like an unrelenting master. Whatever the reason, she wrapped the Force around herself in a protective cloak, keeping the throngs at bay as best she could.

The crowd surged, and a Granjanjin civilian bumped into her. Spinning away, Jaina shielded her midsection with a hand. She ended face to face with a Chiss security agent.

The tall blue-skinned humanoid paid her no mind, and he shouldn't have. She was dressed in local attire, her head shrouded in a native cotton shawl like so many of the Granjanjin women. The Chiss just slipped past, disappearing into the crowd.

At first Jaina's instincts were to follow. Chiss agents would not have mobilized unless something was amiss. Yet some other part told her to press on for Jag, that the best course was in the direction she now traveled. Maybe it was her motherly instincts at work.

The dais suddenly came into view and Jaina knew she had come to right place. Her heart told her so. He stood tall and proud, a vision harkening back to the first time they had met on the _Tafanda Bay_. Yet his aura was weathered. Life had been hard on Jag; harder than he deserved. A sharp pang of regret struck Jaina between the shoulder blades, and she had to resist the urge to simply call out to him. 

Behind her the crowd had grown restless, and several natives jostled Jaina. Momentarily she lost sight of the dais. While the disturbance had come from behind her, Jaina's focus remained forward. The hairs standing on the back of her neck meant something was very wrong; every urging from the Force propelled her toward the dais, away from the trouble.

Her danger sense blared. Her eyes were drawn to a lone man, who stood out in sharp relief from the others. At times, Jedi senses would do that. The world would become fogs of gray and only what the Force needed you to see shone in a brilliant wash of color.

As the man reached into his cape, Jaina sprinted toward him. She saw his intent, knew his target. He had to be stopped. Only she could do it.

Even with Jedi enhanced speed, the timing would be tight. She ran, trying to focus on his movement, trying to counteract his actions with telekinesis. But she needed to be able to visualize his weapon first. A blaster? A grenade?

Her lightsaber snapped to her palm, but she refrained from igniting it yet. The element of surprise had to be hers, or too many innocents might be hurt.

"Down with Pomo'ador!" the man shouted, drawing aside his cape.

Jaina's heart froze; she had been so wrong. This was no mere assassin; his body was strapped with bombs. Drawing the Force into her, Jaina changed direction. There was only one person she could save now, and she would use every last ounce of her Jedi skills to do it. She became a funnel, and life teamed through every single one of her cells.. She understood now.

Just as she stepped between the suicide bomber and Jag, the bombs detonated. She was engulfed by a thunderous silence. Turning into a vessel of light, she whipped Force energy outward, turning shrapnel and debris back upon the point of the explosion. She felt nothing but the beauty of being one with the Force until something large and sharp dug through her back, opening her in two.

She wanted to shout out, but her entire existence was consumed with this final act. Above her, Jag dove across the dais for the Magistrate. His green eyes were intent; his jaw locked in grim resolve. He was a hero, and she loved him for it. As Jaina's world faded to black, she realized he would never know…

"Will you tell her to keep still? The natives are getting restless." 

The tone of Jag's voice seemed off, and Jaina couldn't force her eyes open to discern exactly why. She had a hazy recollection of two Jags saving her from the team of Chiss commandos who had put her in this condition. Beyond that she was having a hard time organizing her thoughts past the persistent hollow throbbing inside her head. Then a tightening of the grip around her body reminded her that she was in Jag's arms, and with that came the feeling everything was going to be all right –

"Hand over the Jedi, Colonel Fel."

At the dangerous timbre of Admiral Qunonyelin's voice, her eyes found the energy to flash open, and the sound of a hundred charrics clicking into ready mode froze her insides.

Jag's green eyes glanced down at her. "Be still, Jaina."

He meant it, and Jaina complied, willing her body to relax, her eyes to feign shut.

"In accordance with Article One-one-five-eight-point-four of the Intergalactic Wartime Convention I am offering Knight Solo asylum into the House Phalanx of Kor'thuin'ta," Jag announced without hesitation, his sure voice rumbling against her through his chest.

"In accordance with Directive Nine-one-three-one-zero-six-six of the Asyndic Constitutional Orders, you have been relieved of your House rights, Commander Fel," the Admiral countered. "Now _hand over the Jedi_."

"Treason!" That was the other Jag, the one with the blue eyes. "For protecting a prisoner your men brutalized."

"There would have been no need to upset the Jedi's delicate nature if you had not interfered, _clone_." 

The other Jag – what was his name? – snapped, "I am not a –"

"Cem," Jag hissed.

That was his name. Cem. Jag's _brother_. In her muddled, darkened world, held securely in Jag's arms, Jaina began to pull together the situation. Cem had come to rescue her, but the attempt had left her beaten and bruised, wondering how she could have been such a fool to think Jag would want to save her after all she had done. Then Jag and Cem had materialized, blasting one Chiss after another. Jag had taken her in his arms, throwing her galaxy into another spinout. He hadn't betrayed her. It was quite obvious he was the one who had been betrayed.

"Hand her over, Commander, and I will do what I can to minimize the consequences to you and your family," the Admiral said.

"You leave our family out of this!" Cem spat.

"Cem!" Jag bellowed.

"Your _family_?" the Admiral asked, footsteps marking his approach. "Are you not merely a clone? I should have known your father would have concealed a shadow child all this time."

"Okay, so you caught me," Cem replied cockily.

"Good," the Admiral said fiendishly. "I had been willing to overlook your actions as the mindwashed delirium of a Fel clone, but now I see you acted with full understanding of your actions." He paused. "Take the Jedi and arrest both men for high treason –"

"_Cheuniat da tahn_!" Jaina recognized that voice without a doubt. Shawnkyr. 

Jag's arms tensed around Jaina, and she dared to peek through half-squinted eyes. Shawnkyr marched through a wall of Chiss, ending between the Admiral and his captives. While Jaina was unable to sense emotions in the Force, there was a clear look of unease among the Chiss soldiers. Shawnkyr, on the other hand, had never looked more determined.

"I, Shawnk'yr'nuruodo, am offering Knight Jaina Solo, Commander Jag'ged Fel and Major Cem'inin Fel asylum into the House Phalanx of Nuruodo. _Cheuniat da tahn_!" 

"_Noat fome turn_!" the Admiral barked.

The pair erupted into an all-out debate in their native language, with seemingly every member of the _Rising Storm_ crew and Admiral's commando team serving as witnesses. Jag didn't move a muscle, but his stiff demeanor was enough to tell Jaina his feelings. Everything was riding on the outcome of this battle of Chiss wills…

Suddenly Shawnkyr shouted the same command and two of the _Storm_'s security contingent abruptly adjusted downward the position of their weapons. Then another and another, until only the Admiral's commandos, distinguished by their silver and black uniforms, were left aiming at the humans.

The Admiral tried to speak; a harsh rebuke from Shawnkyr coupled with the snap of weapons in his direction silenced him. She delivered a string of curt orders, and a team of the _Storm_'s crew ushered the Admiral and his commandos, including the ones wearing ysalmiri cages, out of the hangar.

All at once Jaina felt like she was plunging into a perfectly warm pool. The Force buoyed her wounded body, enveloping it in a comforting sensation. She sighed. "I'm all right, Jag." 

His hold remained firm. "Are you sure?"

Jaina nodded, and he gingerly lowered her feet. Her arms had to wrap around his neck for support, and for an instant they stared into each other's eyes. There were so many things she wanted to say, and his eyes reflected the same open quality.

"Thank you," he said aloud, but his eyes had already left to look past Jaina, to Shawnkyr.

Tugging her hands down, Jaina pivoted to address the tall Chiss female. "Yes. Thank you."

"It was the least I could do," Shawnkyr said to Jag. Then she glanced down at Jaina. "You must hurry."

Jaina nodded. Shawnkyr beckoned her forward, and the Fel brothers followed the two females through the opening the crew had made. As they walked toward the _Falcon_, Chiss after Chiss favored Jag with a bow of respect. At least she didn't have to worry about Jag's place after all this.

Reaching the _Falcon_'s ramp, Jaina made mental preparations for the coming goodbyes. Slowly she turned to face Jag for probably the last time –

He was looking over at his brother, so alike yet so utterly different, and said, "Take Jaina inside. I'll be right behind you."

Cem dipped his head and moved forward to take Jaina by the elbow.

She resisted. "But –"

"We need to hurry," Cem urged.

But Jaina couldn't quite process everything. Jag met Shawnkyr's stare, and both looked like Jaina felt. Heartbroken. Sick. Resigned.

This was going to be their final farewell.

As Cem guided her away, Jaina glanced up at him. "You're coming, too?"

His handsome face smiled, bigger than Jag's had ever been capable, but his blue eyes shone dark like the deepest Mon Cal ocean. It was the same look that overcame Jag when he was truly afraid. "Yes. Our life among the Chiss is over."

"But surely there can be some way to…" Checking back over her shoulder, Jaina watched Jag lock arms with his life-long friend.

"We shot Chiss soldiers to save you, Jaina."

The gravity of the situation hit Jaina with the force of a moon crashing to its planet. Her knees buckled; Cem's hand on her elbow kept her upright.

"How?" was all she managed to mutter.

"How could it not?"

TKL/dl


	9. Scramble

**_Scramble_**

"Are you all right, sir?"

_"Down with Pomo'ador!"_

Run. Wall of air. Blinding light. Deafening roar. 

"Ambassador?" A blue face.

_"Down with Pomo'ador!"_

Run. That face. A wall of air. A blinding light. A deafening roar. 

"The Ambassador is hurt." Shawnkyr hovered above him. "Get a medic over here. Now!" 

_"Down with Pomo'ador!"_

Run. That face. A wall of air. Jaina? A blinding light. A deafening roar. 

Jag closed his eyes, and tried to remember. He had charged forward to try to save the Magistrate. He had seen her there, in the crowd. Hadn't he?

He lurched, trying to sit up. "Jaina?"

A firm hand eased him back to the ground. "She is not here, Jag'ged." 

"The woman…"

"Yes, Ambassador. It appears a woman stepped between the dais and the bomber," Shawnkyr said. 

"Jaina?"

"No. A local."

But – No, it couldn't have been Jaina. He knew that. Then why did he feel ripped in two inside? Like he had lost the most important thing in his life during that horrific blast?

"My family…"

"I will send word," Shawnkyr assured him.

"Thank you."

A hollow ache numbed his mind and heart. The words felt lacking somehow.

"Clear skies, Jag'ged." Shawnkyr's words rang true.

He wasn't sure he could keep the emotion from his voice. "Peace and prosperity, my friend."

He had managed, even as their hands trembled upon the forearms within their respective grasps. This was goodbye. To Shawnkyr. To the Chiss. To a way of life.

Releasing his hold, Jag about-faced. He turned his back on those who had been his brothers in arms and walked proudly up the ramp of a pieced-together hunk of Corellian technology. Not just any starship, though – a symbol of the Rebellion, of everything Jag believed he wasn't. At the top, he paused long enough to trigger the ramp controls. He refused, tempting as it was, to look back.

The cockpit was a short march away. He could hear Jaina's voice, a notch higher than usual, echoing from the small area.

"Don't touch that!"

Seated in the co-pilot's chair, Cem continued to tag knobs. "The YT-1300 start-up protocol relies on a standard efflux capacitor cell recharge –"

"This isn't just any YT-1300, flyboy; this is the _Millennium Falcon_," Jaina countered from the navigation station. She looked up when Jag entered the cockpit. Her eyes flashed, a million unspoken thoughts reflected within, but she clamped them all behind pursed lips.

Moving toward his brother, Jag broke their locked stare. "Let me do that."

"How hard can it be?" Cem persisted on his course of flipping switches and rolling dials. "I've played Falcon Command at least –" 

"That stupid vidgame!" Jaina barked. "Of all the bantha-brained excuses…"

Jag ignored the rest. He had anticipated her reaction, having heard Han Solo and daughter express equal disdain for the vidgame that mimicked the prized freighter. Cem had not been prepared, though, and started at the bile in her outburst. Using the situation to his advantage, Jag gave Cem's arm a tug. A moment later the pair's positions were reversed.

"Hey!" Cem protested. "I was doing that."

"Sit down, Cem," Jag growled as Jaina slipped into the pilot's seat beside him. "You want this one?"

She paused in the pre-flight sequence long enough to shake her head. Her expression was hard and focused. Despite the injuries and strain of the day's events, Jag recognized something else.

"What is it?"

"The navcomp's down," she bit out as she strapped in.

"Cem can fix that." Jag initiated the repulsors, then yanked on his own belts. 

"I don't think –"

"Trust me, Jaina," Jag said over Cem's protests.

She considered his request for barely a second, then tipped her head. "He can't really make it any worse."

Jag glanced back at Cem, who was already hunched over the navigation computer. "You're welcome," Cem muttered, and Jag felt reassured they had the best man for the job. 

By the time he spun back around, the _Falcon_ was already wheeling about its center axis. Out of the corner of his eye, Jag saw a seemingly endless line of Chiss, all standing at attention to bid them farewell – and good luck.

Jaina was right; it couldn't get much worse. If they didn't play this escape just right, this wouldn't just be their farewell – it would be their funeral procession. The Admiral, confident as he was in his plan to perpetrate the Fel family downfall, would have a backup plan. He had gone to great lengths to corner Jag in this costly misstep, and in true Chiss practicality he would be ready for any and all eventualities.

The freighter accelerated for the hangar opening. There was no time for Jag to mourn his losses. "You know there will be a trap waiting?"

"I'd be disappointed if there wasn't," Jaina gritted through her teeth.

"Wouldn't want to let us off easy," Cem added from behind her.

Jag ignored his brother. "What's your plan?"

"What would Qunonyelin be expecting?" Jaina countered.

"A Rebel." The answer came all too easy to Jag.

"Then let's give him – " as the _Falcon_ broke the magbarrier, Jaina gunned the sublight engines "– a Chiss."

Jag scanned the tactical board and found twelve fleet vessels closing upon them in a classic Nuruodo snare. Jaina accelerated toward the closest cruiser. Instantly he realized Jaina's plan.

"What exactly does that mean?" Cem queried.

"Falcon Command, Jonket Mission. How do you win?" Jaina tinkered with the engine controls, maximizing thrust output.

"Drive straight for open space, outrun all but the fastest fighters, double rear shields, jump to hyperspace," Cem answered matter-of-factly.

"Obviously the Admiral has played a time or two." The first volleys of cannon fire buffeted the _Falcon_, and Jag altered the balance on the forward shields.

"So your plan is to stick around and take on these cruisers?" Cem's question was farthest from unperturbed. "Doesn't sound like any Chiss I know."

Jaina glanced in Jag's direction, taking her gaze away from the enormous ship now looming across the entire cockpit viewport. "Left in your clawcraft in this position, what would you do?"

"Hug the largest bulkcruisers as much as I could." Jag readied his fingers on the shield controls.

"Sounds pretty Chiss to me." Jaina aimed straight for the command bridge.

"That's all well and good," Cem said, "but we're not in a clawcraaaaa–" .

Jag braced against the console, the _Falcon_'s sudden roll to starboard ripping the air from his lungs and making his arms heavy against the pull of their rotation. Despite the strain he managed to even out the shield distribution, but the effort was hardly necessary. With unrivaled skill, Jaina guided the freighter within a few meters of the ship's hull. The gunners were unable to get a lock, and the other Chiss ships ceased fire for fear of hitting the cruiser instead of the _Falcon_.

"Whoa," Cem murmured when he finally recovered. "Now this I could get used to." 

"Hold on tight," Jaina warned as they neared the aft engine section.

Speeding away from the cruiser, they felt the first impacts from the Chiss rear gunners making their mark. Jag eyed the shield readout, shifting power to counter reductions as best he could. A warning alarm sounded, and he checked the tactical display. "Incoming clawcraft."

"How many?" Jaina's brow glistened with perspiration, but otherwise her piloting was as effortless as always.

"An entire squadron."

An eyebrow arched. "You're that important, huh?"

"Only as an example," Cem chimed in.

Jag shot a glare back to his brother. All he got in return was wide-eyed amazement at Jaina's latest maneuver, rolling and flipping along the ventral hull of the next cruiser in their deadly dance.

Cem met his stare. "She's good."

"Jaina is great," Jag countered.

"And you didn't marry her the second you had the chance?"

"Don't you have a navcomp to fix?" Jag snapped.

"Done." Cem flashed a cocky grin.

"Already?" Jaina said, skeptical. 

"When it comes to any type of computer, Cem is good –" 

"My brother undervalues me, Jaina. Actually, I'm great. Maybe you and I could –"

"Shouldn't you plot a course out of here?" Jag tugged one of the shield adjustment levers and its handle popped off.

"Careful!"  
"Done!" 

Responding to Jaina's admonition, Jag ignored Cem completely. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize, just be nicer to the old gal. She's got to hold off a squad of your finest until we can make our move." For the first time, Jaina sounded shaky. 

"Not much longer. Your plan is working." Jag transferred the tactical data to her heads-up display.

With trained eyes, she quickly studied the fleet movement. The cruisers were separating, lengthening the time the _Falcon_ would be vulnerable. Jaina's expression was flat and hard; her mind was making sharp mental judgments at a rapid fire pace. Sweat poured off her brow now, and her knuckles showed white. Cranking the pilot's yoke, she spun the freighter around itself and dove over the starboard side of the Chiss cruiser. Open space beckoned them into its dark grasp.

Jag glanced from the tactical display to the viewport, then back to Jaina. "Do you think –"

"We can make it." Her voice trembled.

"Jaina –" Proximity alarms blared over the rest of his words.

He gauged the squadron of clawcraft swooping toward them. Whether they escaped the fleet or not, there was no doubt they would have to engage the fighters. "I'll take the quad cannons."

"No. Cem –" Jaina coughed, hard. She flinched, then continued, "Cem can do it. Can't you?"

Cem hesitated. "I don't –"

"Just like Falcon Command," Jaina interrupted. "Aim and shoot."

"Oh-kay." Cem looked to Jag, who gave him a nod of encouragement.

No sooner had Cem left the cockpit than Jaina turned to Jag. "Time to give them the Rebel," she said, forcing a smile. "Randomize the shield generators; they'll hold. Punch everything else to the sublight drives."

"Jaina?" He couldn't figure out why she was telling him all this. Alarms were blaring. They were blazing toward open space on a straight trajectory. The _Falcon_ was bouncing between hits, closer and quicker every second. And Jaina was acting like he needed basic flight instruction.

She refused to look at him. Instead she concentrated on tweaking the engine outputs. That was how he noticed the tremors in her hands. "I'm sorry, Jag. For everything."

She coughed several more times, and he blinked in disbelief at the drops of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. This couldn't be…

Even as the first pair of clawcraft barreled past, cannons blazing, every fiber of Jaina's tiny frame was focused on holding the freighter on its course. "I'm not going to make it…but I don't want to regret not saying…what I need to say like I did…" She drew in a gurgling breath. "I will al…" A cough, and more blood. "Love…you."

Beyond the viewport a clawcraft erupted in a ball of flame. Jag shielded his eyes despite the autodimming transparisteel. When he lowered his hands, he instinctively grabbed for the co-pilot's yoke as the freighter started to roll. Cem's cheers of excitement reverberated over the intercom, but Jag only felt the hollow ache of loss inside. 

Next to him Jaina was slumped over against her restraints, lifeless. She had left Jag to play the Rebel's part.

TKL/dl


	10. Mend

**_Mend   
_**  
The profile of a tall figure moved slowly into the room. Despite her prone position, Jaina managed to make out a humanoid shape with a blue tinge. A Chiss. Blurred vision revealed little else before the pounding in her head and the persistent compulsion to rip the skin from her flesh impeded any further investigation. Overcome, she succumbed to the urge to itch – only to realize she was restrained at both wrists. Suddenly her heart pounded louder than the Podracer taking laps inside her skull.

The fresh blood to her brain cleared her vision. Jaina watched as the older, blue-skinned male retrieved a bottle from the lone counter in the spartan room and drew a sizable dose into a hyposyringe. As he double-checked the contents, she eyed the restraints.

The Chiss turned toward her, and she slammed her eyes shut. With only a rudimentary understanding of her bindings she began to manipulate the one on the opposite side. At first the task seemed impossible, but then she sank deeper into the Force, stilling her thoughts. With his footsteps drawing closer each second, Jaina began to make headway against the complicated twist of synthleather.

The footfalls stopped. She could sense the syringe's proximity, feel the alien's intention –

Whipping her legs up, she knocked the Chiss off balance. The next instant the restraint dropped from her wrist. She flung her fist, smashing him in the chin and sending him crashing into a small table covered with medical implements. Sprawled on the floor, he yelled unintelligibly while she struggled to free her other arm.

Her task accomplished, she vaulted from the bed and sprinted for the door. But something tangled with her feet and she crashed unceremoniously to the floor. Jaina sensed the alien lunging and raised her forearm to block. He snatched her arm, driving a finger into a nerve nexus. Howling, she sent a shock of Force energy outward. His pincher hold released as he flopped backward.

She struggled to stand. Her legs barely responded, her nervous system apparently still reeling from his skilled finger pressure. He knelt beside her, still shouting. Jaina raised her fist to launch a punishing blow – but abruptly her hand stopped in mid-swing, stayed by a powerful grip from behind. Undaunted, she threw her head backward to land a blow against her new assailant.

"Owwww!" a familiar male voice bellowed. Its owner released her arm. "Cut it out, Jaina."

Scrambling to a vacant corner of the room, Jaina swayed while warily assessing the situation. Jag's brother held one hand on his nose and offered the other to the Chiss. Once standing, the alien began muttering to Cem and pointing in Jaina's direction.

"What does he want?" she snapped.

Cem addressed the Chiss in his native tongue before turning to Jaina. "He says you are further proof of the human tendency to be impulsive and ungrateful."

"Ungrateful!" Jaina pointed at the Chiss. "He was trying to inject me with something!" Her free hand came up to scratch the upheld arm. "And he had me restrained."

The Chiss noted her scratching with a glance, and made a remark to Cem. 

"What did he say?"

Cem answered the Chiss instead of her. The blue-skinned humanoid spat a retort and pointed to the hyposyringe on the floor, then stormed from the room.

"What's going on?"

Cem strode over and retrieved the hyposyringe. "According to the good Doctor Tarado, your actions indicate you are well on the road to recovery. And it seems I have been charged with your care until he returns."

Jaina eyed the closing door. "When will that be?"

"He didn't say. But I'm sure Jag won't let him leave without finding out." He casually started in her direction.

"Stop." She held up her palm.

He paused. "I'm just going to give you the shot for your withdrawal. Then we can see to your wounds."

She shook her head. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"It's me, Cem. Jag's brother."

Jaina stared blankly at his assurance.

"You know, the man who gave up his life among the Chiss to save you?" 

"Jag gave up his life for me. You seemed a bit too…eager." 

"So you did notice." Cem held up his hands conciliatorily. "It's true. I hated living among the Chiss. I've wanted to leave the Unknown Regions since the day I arrived." 

Arching an eyebrow, she asked, "I thought you were Jag's brother?"

He exhaled sharply and pursed his lips. Just like Jag did when he was exasperated. Suddenly Cem's eyes flashed like sapphires in the afternoon sun. "How about I hold off on the shot?" He eyed Jaina's renewed itching. "If that is what you'd like?" 

Clenching her hands into fists, Jaina nodded.

Carefully he set the hyposyringe on the counter. "And maybe I can treat those wounds while I explain?"

"Where are we?"

"Not in Chiss captivity, if that's what you're worried about." 

Jaina huffed. "Can you just answer my question?"

"Can you just trust me?" he countered.

"Why should I?" 

"Because Jag does." Cem ran his fingers through his disheveled brown locks. His hair was longer than Jaina remembered. 

"How long have I been out?"

Moving swiftly Cem grabbed a chair and deposited it by the medbunk. Then he stalked over to Jaina and without warning snatched her by the shoulders. Before she realized what was happening, he had deposited her on the bunk and was sitting next to her in the chair.

"Left arm," he ordered.

Jaina stared at him.

"You already assaulted one caretaker and smashed my nose," Cem said. "If you expect me to answer your hundred and one questions, at least let me be productive while I'm at it."

She considered his request. Sensing nothing more than annoyance from him, Jaina acquiesced and offered up her left arm.

Cem took a cleansing solution and gauze from the counter, then proceeded to treat the various wounds on her arm. He explained as he went.

"We're on a small moon in an uncharted system of the Unknown Regions. After we escaped from Tenupe, Jag jumped us all over Chiss space. We had to dodge two more patrols before we could arrive here undetected. This facility has been a secret family hideout since… well, almost forty years now, I suppose. No one knows about it. You'll be safe here." 

"The doctor –"

"Doctor Tarado? He's as trustworthy as they come. You don't have to worry about him. Unlike most Chiss, he has no secret agendas. His only cause is protecting life. He's kept my secret all these years –"

"Your secret?"

"Doctor Tarado has been our family physician since Father signed on with Thrawn. He delivered all six of us –" 

"Six?"

"I am Jag's brother, remember?" 

"You're not a clone?"

"I've pretended to be a clone, yes. Mostly because I can pass for Davin, and there are still some Davin clones walking around Chiss space. But my mother assures me that I spent nearly eight standard months in her womb. And I tend to take her word on things like that. Left side, please." 

Jaina blinked. When Cem simply raised an eyebrow and glanced at her tunic, she realized he wanted her to lift it. She did, looking down at herself to see the several wounds there, including the hole rent by the Killik she had fought on Tenupe. It was almost completely healed.

He began to tend that injury first. "You were incapacitated for close to three standard weeks."

"Three weeks?"

"Jag thinks you went into some sort of Jedi trance. Sounded like he's seen you do that before."

"Healing trance." Jaina flinched when his ministrations hit a tender spot. 

Cem lightened his touch but did not stop. "Yes, that's it. Doctor Tarado said he has never seen a human with so many injuries recover so quickly."

"So this Chiss doctor has seen lots of humans?"

"Lots of Fels, anyway."

"Well, that explains a lot." Her eyes followed Cem as he reached for a jar of bactasalve.

"Too bad those trances don't do anything for the withdrawal." He placed a hand on hers, preventing her from continuing to scratch a spot on her forearm. "The shot would help." 

"No." She drew her arms away, into her chest. She still had questions… "Where's Jag?"

"He's taking care of a few small matters. Nothing for you to worry about."

"What kind of small matters?"

He concentrated intently on applying the salve. "Some… things."

Jaina grabbed the front of his shirt, shoving Cem back in the chair. "Is he all right?"

"Whoa, there!" Cem eyes were wide. "Jag wasn't kidding when he said you could be a bit…aggressive." 

Jaina released his shirt. "Sorry."

Cem tipped his head. "Jag is fine."

"But?" Jaina could sense no deception in his words. Still, there was something he was hiding from her.

He placed the salve on the counter. "It's nothing serious, really. It's just that the Falcon –"

"What did you two –" Jaina shot up from the bunk "– rodders do to my –"

"Calm down," he ordered as a firm hand slammed her weakened body back to sitting. "If even a fraction of the stories Jag's told me are true, the Falcon has been through far worse than this. She only needed a few minor repairs."

"What kind of repairs?"

"Look, Jaina, we all got banged up in the last of couple weeks, especially you. So why don't you let me fix you up and then you can go inspect our handiwork for yourself?" 

A sharp pain in her arm reminded her of the incessant urges crowding her thoughts. The withdrawal symptoms drained the sharp tuning of her studious mind, making even the Falcon's damage seem unimportant. She just wanted to feel better. "Fine."

"Good." Twirling a finger, Cem indicated she should turn around on the medbunk. "Now your back."

Jaina complied, then shimmied up her shirt to expose her lower back. "Why didn't Jag ever tell me about you?"

"He couldn't." Cem began to debride the exit wound from Tenupe.

She pondered Cem's words. Hadn't she and Jag been as close as two people could be? Then she remembered their last days on the Rising Storm. Perhaps she had been wrong about Jag all along. He was certainly capable of keeping secrets from her.

"Jaina, Jag's silence wasn't a betrayal of you. This was about protecting his family, and to us Fels nothing is more sacred." He paused. "And I think you would have done the same for your brothers if you'd had to."

Shutting her eyes, she warded off the biting reminder of choosing family over love, and how much it had cost her personally.

Cem continued to explain; his words were a welcome distraction. "After Cherith was born, Mom was so excited at the possibility of having another daughter that she begged my father for one more child. There was always the chance of having a son, of course, but Mom was convinced she would be blessed with another girl."

Adjusting her position, Jaina tried to remedy the discomfort of having to lean over and hold up her shirt at the same time. "Having too many sons is a bad thing?"

"Not usually. But in times of, shall we say, intense disputes among the ruling families, rivalries can lead to the extinction of entire bloodlines. And since the inheritance of Chiss family power is patrilineal, it's the male heirs who are in danger."

"Oh." She wanted to say more, but the words wouldn't come.

"Also with more male heirs the more potential a family had to broaden its power base. At the time I was born, it wasn't uncommon among the Chiss to conceal a last born son and ensure the continuation of the family. They call the hidden heir the shadow child."

Jaina swiveled around to face Cem. "They just pretended you didn't exist?"

"To some extent, yes." He looked anywhere but into Jaina's eyes. "Father brought Mom to visit whenever he could. After the Vong war started, he sent Jag to retrieve me from Corellia. I did get to see my family more often, but only when we could manage it without compromising my cover as a simple Davin clone."

"You lived on Corellia?" 

"Until the war." He motioned for her to turn around. "I need to finish so you can rest."

For a moment Cem let Jaina meet his stare. His blue eyes were so full of pain she felt it like it were her own. Years without the love of parents or family. In a way her life had been much the same, but at least she always had been able to share her isolation with Jacen and Anakin.

She spun to face the other side of the bunk, moaning as her muscles protested the awkward position, leaning over with her back exposed. "This is ridiculous."

Without a second thought Jaina ripped off her tunic, leaving her entire back exposed to Cem. When he did nothing and said nothing, Jaina glanced over her shoulder.

He was trying not to gawk. "Um…I don't think this is such a good idea."

"Oh, come on. You can't tell me you've never seen a girl's back before."

"Yes. No." He swallowed. "I mean, of course I have. But…"

"But what?"

"But you're… um, you know, you."

"So I've been told," Jaina said with a grin. "Look, my back is killing me. The withdrawal is making me hot, and I just want to get this over with. So do you mind?"

He prepared a fresh gauze with cleansing solution. "If you insist."

She could feel the tentative nature of his touch at first. "I thought the Chiss were practical when it came to matters of the flesh?"

"First off, I'm not Chiss. Raised on Corellia, remember? Second of all, you're Jag's girl, so this is a bit awkward."

"Jag and I are…we're not together."

Cem paused in his ministrations. "Could have fooled me."

Jaina wrapped her arms across her chest, resisting the urge to claw at her skin again. "I don't want to talk about it."

"All right," Cem said. "Then how about telling me about this scar?"**_  
_**

Jaina, while not usually self-conscious, felt suddenly exposed. She pulled her knees to her chest. "It's a long story."

Cem rubbed salve on her &))& shoulder, by the tip of the scar. "I've got plenty of time. Besides, from the looks of it, there must be some deeper meaning. People don't just leave scars in this great age of bacta –"

"Some people choose scars as a reminder," Jag's voice caused Jaina to stiffen and Cem's hand to leap from her back, "but that doesn't mean they necessarily want to talk about it."

"You would know, brother," Cem said, then began to apply more salve to Jaina's shoulder.

Jaina tried to draw away to no avail.

Jag's booted feet clipped across the room. "What are you doing?" The question was pointed, and not directed at Jaina.

"Doctor's orders. He told me to apply salve to all of Jaina's wounds. So as you can see that's what I am doing," Cem replied.

Initially Jag did not respond. Jaina waited with bated breath, her knees drawn tighter still until she felt the tremors in her arms. The tension was palpable, like a raw, electric energy waiting to be loosed.

"The _Starflare_ is inbound."

Some of the anxiety released in a sharp exhale from Cem. "Finally."

"I need for you to go guide Mother in. The hangar is going to be a squeeze with the _Falcon_ –"

"Wait. Where's Father?" Cem, thankfully, had stopped rubbing the salve into Jaina's skin.

"I…can't say," Jag hedged.

Jaina took the opportunity to tug on her tunic. She freed her hair and spun to face the two brothers. Her eyes instinctively sought out Jag, but his piercing stare was directed elsewhere, at his brother. Cem simply smiled at Jaina.

"All better?" he asked.

She shrugged mutely.

"You'd feel better yet if you took that shot," Cem added.

"You didn't take the shot?" Jag's gaze shot over to her.

Jaina shook her head. Any explanation seemed pointless. She had a headache and every part of her body flared in fiery agony but still she had refused.

"Where is the medicine?" Jag asked his brother.

"Over there." Cem pointed to the counter, then stood. "I think I leave you two to wrestle this one out."

Jag retrieved the hyposyringe, but didn't say a word until Cem had left the room. "You need this shot, Jaina. Doctor Tarado formulated this solution from your last vial on the _Falcon_. It took him almost two weeks to determine the formula and reproduce it exactly."

"Why?"

"Why would he do that?"

"Because I asked him to, Jaina. I couldn't bear to see you suffering, and Doctor Tarado had the resources to help you."

"How do you know that stuff even works? That it won't kill me?"

"Because Doctor Tarado gave it to you when he arrived this morning and for the first time we could release you from the restraints for a while. And look, now you're finally awake." Jag reached out, touching her shoulder tentatively. "Please?"

Releasing a sigh, Jaina offered her palm upward, and Jag placed the hyposyringe on it. A few seconds later she had dispensed the fluid into her skin. The effects were noticeable immediately. As her thoughts began to find a voice over the thundering addle of her mind, Jaina came to a realization.

"Your parents." She hopped off the medbunk, nearly collapsing from gravity's effect on her weakened legs.

Jag caught her by the elbow. "My mother is here."

"Then I'd better be taking my leave." Jaina shirked his grip. "How bad is the _Falcon_?"

"It's not going anywhere soon." Jag followed Jaina as she wandered around the room.

She couldn't find her clothes anywhere. "I'll just have to make it work."

"Jaina, regardless of the _Falcon_'s condition, you are in no shape to go anywhere." When she ignored him, Jag snatched Jaina by the arm, turning her toward him. "Jaina, you have never run from anything in your life. What is this about?"

She stared at the buttons on his shirt. "They must hate me."

"Hate you?"

"I ruined your life." She sucked in a breath. "I ruined their lives."

"You don't understand –"

"But I do. Just like you said on Tenupe, you mortgaged your family name for me. And I betrayed that trust. And now, you have given up everything." She spun and paced across the room.

Jag walked up behind her, so close she could feel the heat emanating from him. "That's what you don't understand. If you had ever met my family, you would know that protecting the ones we love comes before everything. We have picked up and moved too many times to count, but in the end we have always had each other. That is all that matters."

Jaina curled her fingers in front of her lips. "How can they not hate me?"

His fingers brushed her waist. "Jaina, fretting like this is not helping anyway, especially not your condition. Please, rest. Later we can see how everyone feels –"

"See I knew it." Jaina wheeled. "You know I've wronged them. You know they have every right to space me from this place. I don't want to be the reason for any more pain to come to your life, Jag. You need your family more than ever, and they need you."

"My parents understand my choices."

"They understand that I cost them everything, that as you say, I have no…honor." Trembling, Jaina batted away a tear.

Jag guided her to the lone chair in the room, and knelt beside her. "I am going to explain this as best I can. Power is the only true currency in the Chiss society. True, Lowbacca's actions cost my family to a degree. I think his direct actions were attributed to one assault shuttle and two tankers. Even then the monetary measure could only be taken from my holdings."

Hearing the truth made Jaina's breath race. "Oh gods."

Jag clutched her hands, stilling their quaking. "Our family name was the true cost. We were forced to divorce our service to the Nuruodo family and offer it to the (&(&& in retribution."

"You lost," she swallowed back the bile rising in her throat, "the Fifth Fleet?"

"It was only a job, Jaina."

"I think I am going to be sick." Jumping from her chair, she scanned the room frantically. Locating the sink, she plowed over to it and waited for the inevitable.

Jag's steady hand soothed her back as her body wretched. Nothing would come though. No relief for the sickening mess she had made. It was almost as if her body was reminding her that she would have to live with these consequences for the rest of her life.

"Jay, I want you to know that despite everything that has happened, and no matter what I have said, I don't regret anything. I don't regret the time we had, loving you, or the choices I made because of that love. I realize that now. In the end, I would do it all again."

Her sides heaved in sorrow. Sobs wracked her body until Jaina could no longer stand. Jag picked her up and carried Jaina to the medbunk. Before he put her down, he let her cry into the plane of his chest. He simply held her in his arms. This was where her heart wanted to be, but she understood it to be a temporary reprieve. Soon she would have to answer for everything. Alone.

And that was exactly how she felt as he lowered to the bunk. He tenderly covered her with a sheet and brushed aside her soggy bangs. Then Jag left Jaina to cry herself to sleep.

When consciousness returned, Jaina's eyes were reluctant to open. Curled on her side, her back ached beyond imagination. She willed her lids apart to find the dim outline of dark hair hovering nearby.

"Jag?" she croaked. Her throat was raw and drier than a Tatooine desert.

"Shhh." A hand eased across her forehead, and soothing energy washed through her body. "Rest now."

Sleep returned, but it was full of violent images. Chiss faces. Fighters crashing into a bridge. Tesar chomping on a bug. Jag. A Granjanjin man. A body suit of bombs. White. Green. Red. A sea of blood.

Her blood. And in the middle a small child with green eyes and brown hair.

An agonized scream woke her from the nightmare.

The hand was there, calming her racing heart with merely a touch. "Jag?"

"Be still, Jaina." Green eyes in the darkness.

"The baby?"

"You must keep the patient still, Master Jedi," a voice commanded.

"Easier said than done," the green eyes responded.

What was left of Jaina's heart fragmented into tiny splinters, piercing her soul like painful shards of truth. "Zekk?"

"Yes, Jaina. I'm here."

"What…"

"Uh."

She blindly snatched for his tunic, twisting it in her grip. "Is Jag…"

"The Ambassador was injured in the blast, but all accounts indicate he will recover. It's you I am worried about. When I found you, the physicians reported you were resisting their attempts to treat you, even your weakened state."

She remembered then. Feeling her baby slip away and wanting nothing more than to follow. The Force had not granted her final wish.

"It took every bit of my powers to keep you here."

"Why…did you come, Zekk?"

"Cilghal had been concerned when you left unannounced. She had some sense of…she was worried."

"Did she tell you?" Jaina felt the first tear trickle down her cheek.

"No." Zekk took her hand. He was shaking. "I am so sorry, Jaina."

Tears fell then, unhindered. Zekk tried to console Jaina as best he could. Because her injuries, she was unable to do more than cry; Zekk was unable to do more than touch her brow. She was isolated even in the company of a lifelong friend. Not even his touch through the Force could stem the breach of her weeping heart.

The Force offered her little either. Healing energy to mend her body. Preparation to fight another day. She had done its bidding, convinced the Force had beckoned her to Jag's side, only to be bombarded with the awful reality that if she wasn't being a sword, then she would be its shield. Without hesitation or remorse she had thrown her body between the dais and the bomber. Without hesitation or remorse the Force had asked her to sacrifice her child in its service.

Swords were very beautiful and elegant weapons, but also solitary, sheathed in a (&& in case they cut those closest.

Her hammering heart slowed to a methodical beat. Jaina breathed in. And out. The Force flowed into the recesses of her spirit and Jaina became numb.

"Jaina?" Zekk finally whispered. His voice edged with grief. "Will you let the physicians treat you now?"

She shut her eyes, drowning the world in black.

"Bacta is becoming scarcer by the second, but we can get you in a tank now."

"No."

"But –"

"Save the bacta for someone who really needs it." Jaina had the Force.

"Your injuries, Jay. Your back will take months to heal," Zekk argued.

"Then I won't forget, will I?"


	11. Truths

_**Truths**_

"Careful, sir."

Jag ignored Shawnkyr and continued to weave his way through the chaos inside the Granjanjin capital's lone surgical facility. Mayhem filled the halls. Locals who could stand were propped up against the walls awaiting medical attention, while the more seriously injured occupied what little gurney space was available. Following the attack on the Magistrate, the violence seemed to have no end. From what Jag had been told, a steady stream of casualties had come through the facility's doors over the past two days.

A woman in tattered, singed clothes stepped from the haze of injured and dead to grab Jag by the sleeve. "Please, master. Can you help my child?"

He flinched when she jostled his tender ribs. "I –"

"You will be helped –" Shawnkyr stepped between Jag and the woman, shoving her back. "– in the order you were triaged."

Jag touched his companion on the elbow. "I am fine."

"You would be better served resting, Jag'ged."

"A short walk to stretch my legs will do no harm."

Another man stepped out to address the pair. Shawnkyr summarily dismissed him with a red stare. "It might end in me harming someone else, however."

Jag decided a change of subject was needed. "So you believe this woman who stepped in front of the bomber actually lived?"

Her blue brow wrinkled. "The local authorities insist it is true."

"Where is she?"

"I do not know."

"Can you find out?"

Shawnkyr stopped at the nexus of two corridors. She looked left, then right. "Sit in that chair and I will determine if the woman is indeed alive, and here."

Jag knew there was no use arguing if he wanted her help. He tipped his head before slowly walking to the open chair along the nearby wall. He settled into its hard seat and waited. And waited. And waited. He was about to go looking for Shawnkyr when a dark colored tunic filled his field of vision.

Jag followed the line of the weathered material up until a familiar face greeted him.

"Hello, Ambassador," Jacen Solo said with a lopsided grin.

Jag rose a bit too quickly, and grimaced. "Jacen. This is unexpected."

Jacen shook Jag's offered hand. "With the _Rising Storm_ in orbit, I expected I'd run into you at some point."

Swallowing, Jag tried to dispel the uncomfortable knot settling in his gut. "Yes. I suppose that would give me away."

"Has my sister been around for any more –" Jacen winked "– _diplomatic negotiations_?"

Jag touched the tender spot throbbing under his ribs. "Jaina and I –"

Holding up a hand, Jacen interrupted. "Say no more. None of my concern."

Jag nodded once. An uncomfortable silence fell between them. "So what brings you to Granjanjin?"

"Right." Jacen glanced over his shoulder. "When I was passing through a nearby system, I heard the reports of a woman who stopped a bomb's blast from killing the Granjanjin Magistrate."

"And you thought you would investigate it." The idea made sense to Jag. From what Jaina had told him, Jacen had been crossing the galaxy studying with different sects of Force users. "You think this woman used the Force?"

Jacen shrugged. "I don't see how else she could have lived to tell about it."

"Actually, I was just trying to find where she was located myself. Shawnkyr will be back any time now to –"

"Oh she's right over there." Jacen thumbed over his shoulder.

Stepping to the side, Jag eyed a plain door. "Really?" Without another thought he crossed the hall.

The door swished open, and a physician bustled out shaking his head. "No good. No good."

Jag stayed him with a hand. "Is this the room where we can find the woman who saved the Magistrate?"

"_Was_ the room," the healer huffed.

"Was?" Jag and Jacen chimed in unison.

The healer stepped aside. "See for yourself. She's gone. Foolish. Refused bacta and most conventional treatment. Foolish, foolish girl. Rather be a martyr than a hero."

Jacen chuckled. "I guess that was a trip wasted."

Jag stared at Jaina's brother, somewhat befuddled. Everything felt out of sorts. Jacen here. The week's hero missing. Jag out of touch. Isolated. Alone. And all the while his ribs blaring for him to sit down.

"You don't look well, Jag."

"I am fine."

Jacen gave him that all-knowing Jedi look Jaina had often used. It was bad enough Jedi could sense emotions, but to think they knew your thoughts as well –

Jacen put his hand on Jag's shoulder. "For what it's worth, I was rooting for you."

"Uh…thank you."

Jacen's gazed past Jag. "You're a busy man, and I've got places to be."

"It was nice to see you again."

"And you. Clear skies, Jag."

"May the Force be with you." Raising a hand, Jag bid Jacen farewell. Jaina's brother got no farther than three strides down the hall, though, before Jag called after him. He met the Jedi halfway. "If Jaina ever needs anything…"

After tapping information quickly into his datapad, he popped out a datacard and slipped it to Jacen. "You will always be able to contact me using this communications relay."

Palming the disc, Jacen smiled. "You are an honorable man, Jag Fel. Thank you."

Watching Jacen wind away down the hall, Jag suddenly felt exhausted. He leaned against the wall and clamped his eyes shut.

"Stop picking at your thumb, Jag."

The words were more commanding than any uttered by the sternest Chiss generals, yet they were spoken softly, in the most feminine of timbres. Jag pulled his forefinger away from its mindless habit of picking the cuticle off his thumb and forced his body to stand at attention, a habit so ingrained there was no chance of relapse.

"He is your father, not your commanding officer," Syal whispered in his ear.

Watching the staryacht skillfully slideslip into an external docking station, Jag nodded. The closer it came to the docking ring, the more nervous Jag felt. Not because his father couldn't perform the maneuver, of course, but because of the reason he had to perform the maneuver in the first place. The hangar was full; the staryacht's berth was occupied by the _Millennium Falcon_.

For years Jag had dreamt of the moment his parents would finally meet Jaina. Not once, even in his worst nightmares, had he ever conjured a situation like this. Remarkably his mother had handled the first encounter with grace and civility. But then again she never operated otherwise. Syal Fel was a skilled actress and the only front anyone outside the family ever saw was the composed woman who stood now at his side. Only three times had Jag seen her express hurt or rage – the deaths of his siblings. In all the years of his childhood, through the many callings that had shifted the services and locations of his father's career, not once had Syal shown any demeanor but calm acceptance. So she had arrived at the family outpost with a happy smile upon her face, thrilled to see her sons. Jaina was simply a welcome guest in her new home.

But it was never his mother's reaction that Jag had feared. It was his father's. Years of service lay wasted because Jag couldn't stop his heart from ruling his choices. Worse yet, his father might well accuse him of letting something else govern his decision making process.

Jag didn't even want to consider that possibility. Was he simply drawn to Jaina by some animal magnetism that defeated by mere proximity his astute reasoning and intellectual wherewithal? These past couple of years he had managed to put Jaina and her actions in stark perspective. He made his peace with what they had been. He had acknowledged that his boyish enthusiasm coupled with hormones had tricked him into believing she was something she wasn't. Yet faced with her now, here, his steely contempt melted into a pool of concern, and even hope.

Some part of him still believed in the woman his heart had loved in the Known Regions. He was drawn to her like a Ployi moth to a flame, and he was powerless to stop it.

The hatch hissed, jostling Jag out of his musings. His mother wasted no time, not even letting his father's broad shoulders pass through the opening before tackling him in a ravenous hug.

"I missed you," she said breathlessly, then kissed Soontir with all the passion of their youths.

Feeling heat rise to his cheeks, Jag looked away.

"Jagged," Soontir's voice rumbled after a short spell.

"Father." All the practiced speeches fled Jag's mind.

"You look no worse for wear, son."

"I have been better."

Soontir hugged Syal to his side with one arm. "And Cem and Wyn?"

She grinned, gazing up at his one good eye. "Tearing the outpost apart, as always."

"At least you didn't get your brother killed." Soontir walked past with Syal in tow. Jag watched them go, unsure whether to follow or bolt out the docking station hatch. Suddenly, his father paused and glanced back over his shoulder. "Come along, Jag. It's about time I heard how you got us into this fine mess."

With heavy feet, Jag obeyed his father's wishes. Soontir wandered casually to the large room that had served as his office from time to time. After assisting Syal into one of the conforming chairs, the aging general moved to his own seat behind the large desk. Jag hovered just inside the door.

"First, how is our guest?" Soontir asked. He looked to Jag for an answer.

"Jaina is healing."

"So is Doctor Tarado's chin apparently."

"That is my fault," Jag conceded. "I shouldn't have left her alone –"

Soontir flashed his palm. "Doctor Tarado's pride is wounded worse than his chin. Next time he'll be more…cautious when working around a Jedi known to be impulsive. And we can expect him back when?"

"A week's time."

Soontir nodded thoughtfully. "Then we should have plenty of time to decide what to do with her."

Jag's heart froze. Would his father actually consider bartering Jaina's life to return their family name to good standing?

"She is welcome to stay for as long as she likes," Syal said with a smile. "Isn't that right, 'Tir?"

Soontir's stare bored into Jag. "That depends on our son."

"Sir?" Jag asked.

"Do you understand completely the choices you have made?"

"I do."

"And you were willing to sacrifice the home and safety of your family in this decision?"

"I was."

"You would do it again?"

"Yes."

"Without regret?"

"None." Jag paused for a moment. "I do not regret my choice; I do regret the suffering I have caused our family because of it."

"Friendly fire casualties are an undeniable consequence of conflict."

"'Tir!"

"He's right, Mother," Jag noted. "I am so sorry."

Syal rose from the chair. "Don't apologize." She rounded on her husband. "Soontir Fel, stop this needless line of questioning. Some things are best left in the past."

Soontir shrugged innocently. "I just want to be sure he understands the ramifications to everyone."

"That we've been torn from a place of residence yet again?" she asked pointedly, and Soontir suddenly appeared smaller in stature. "Note, my darling, I did not say home. Home is where our family is. Now, that is here. We are all together, and we are safe."

"Jag has spent his whole life dedicated to the service of Chiss ideals," his father persisted. "Now he has nothing. He is a criminal in their eyes."

"Fine words from a man who shirked his Imperial mantle like a troublesome undergarment," she countered. "Tell him the truth, 'Tir."

His parents locked eyes for the span of several heartbeats. Syal stomped her foot. "Tell him."

Soontir sighed and turned back to Jag. "Son…maybe you had better have a seat."

Jag hesitated. Suddenly he was more fearful of the unknown than of the verbal lashing for failing his family he had been expecting. Slowly he crossed to the second conforming chair and settled onto its edge.

"It seems you are too much like your father," Soontir said softly.

Syal smiled. "And this is a bad thing?"

"Years ago I left the Empire to serve the Rebellion. At the time I thought it was solely over the love of a woman."

"Jaina and I…we are not together."

"Let me finish," Soontir said, waving a hand. "When I fled the Empire, it was a matter of necessity for your mother's safety and mine. In retrospect, that decision was easier than I would have imagined, mostly because the reasons I had fought so hard for the Empire, the plight of those living in the fear of constant upheaval, was no longer the objective of the regime I served. In my short time with the Alliance, however, I quickly discovered they would not be up to the task of providing a safe haven for your mother or the family we hoped to have. So I sought out Thrawn, whose ideals I had come to respect in the short time I had the privilege of knowing him, and dedicated my life to the service of his cause. Do you know what that was?"

Jag knew it well. His father had said it many times. "Protectiing and upholding the Chiss Ascendancy against threats inside and out."

"On the surface, yes. Deep down, it was much more than that. Our immediate goal was to maintain Chiss strength, but in fact that was instrumental for our ultimate objective – protecting the entire galaxy from horrible threats from beyond the Rim. The truth behind our actions went unspoken because even the thought of the terrors we knew to exist are more than most beings can comprehend."

"You mean the Yuuzhan Vong," Jag said.

Soontir tipped his head. "Our fears were ultimately realized."

"But we prevailed," Syal added.

Jag waited for more. Nothing Soontir had said countered anything he knew or understood about his father's service.

"And my actions separated you from House Nuruodo. Pushed you further from your true calling."

"On the contrary. Your actions showed me the truth of my calling."

Jag blinked. "I am confused."

Soontir smiled. "Clearly." He paused, then continued. "My cooperation with House Nuruodo was an alliance forged for mutual benefit. The threat I joined Thrawn to repel has come and gone, and the Chiss have gained the benefit of my expertise and knowledge. In return my family has been protected, even after enemies who endangered them passed from the scene. Now the situation is very different. My children are grown and braving the perils of adulthood for themselves, so there is little more I can do to protect my family. And in recent years the Chiss leadership has selected goals that often run counter to my core beliefs."

"What are you saying, Father?"

"There has been little to hold me here."

"Except?"

"You."

Jag sank back into the posh chair, the air leaving his lungs in a whoosh. None of this made any sense. "What of Cem and Wyn?"

Syal leaned over and patted Jag's hand. "Your sister wants to be an actress. There are few roles for humans in the Chiss theater, however, and Cem –"

"Never wanted to be in Chiss space at all," Jag muttered. The truth assaulted him from all sides. "You've stayed…for me?"

"Of course," his father said, as if it was the most mundane revelation in the galaxy.

"Then you're not mad about what I did for Jaina?"

Soontir leaned forward on the desk. "I have never doubted you, Jagged. You have always done what is right. Be mindful of your motivations; our minds can often deceive us in matters of the heart."

"I will always love Jaina," Jag admitted. "But too much misunderstanding has passed between us to ever recoup what we lost. I did what I did on the _Rising Storm_ knowing that full well."

Syal's hand wrapped around his. "Your attitude has certainly softened toward Jaina. Perhaps in time…"

Jag closed his fingers over hers. "We have both done things to hurt the other, but my failings on her behalf are beyond forgiveness."

"Nothing is beyond forgiveness." Soontir rose and walked around the desk to stand next to them. "What is it you have done that you think is beyond repair?"

"I didn't believe in her."

"You had valid reasons not to. The supply depot attack alone –"

"That is just it. I assumed Jaina led that attack. I _knew_ it."

"She was there; you verified it personally."

"But she saw the truth, that there was no preparation for a full scale launch, and she tried to tell the others to back out."

"Or so she says."

Jag shook his head vigorously. "Jaina can't lie; it's not in her nature."

Soontir shifted his weight onto the desk's edge. "Son, you told me when you vouched for the Wookiee Jedi that Jaina might still act against the terms."

"Yes. But I should have known she would never condone a strike of that sort."

"Yet she _was_ there," the general countered.

"Only because the mission was initiated based on false information. Once she realized the truth, Jaina and some of the others tried to pull out. But they couldn't abort the operation before the mission leader advanced the opening salvo."

"Who would do such a thing?" Syal voice was more upset than Jag was accustomed to.

For that reason he hesitated.

"Who, Son?" his father persisted.

"Her brother, Jacen."

Soontir's good eye grew darker, almost black. "In your communications before Tenupe he assured you he sided with the Chiss, that he could not condone Jaina's actions."

"He told me what I wanted to hear, Father. There was indeed one StealthX at Supply Depot Thrago I could never identify because the holocams all met with interference. Now I realize that was Jacen's." Jag felt relief for finally saying it. Many of the ideas that had swum in his head these last days had been beyond his understanding until, at a loss, he had seen the undeniable truth. "I also believe Jacen Solo has been misleading everyone to advance his own personal agenda. He lied to us. He must have lied to the Jedi High Council and the Alliance military commanders, as well. He lied to Jaina and his parents. And yet…I should have known better, but I believed him over Jaina."

Syal crossed her fingers over her heart. "What would make him do such a thing?"

"I do not know." Jag drew in a breath. "There is always a concern with Jedi… and the history of their family."

Soontir's gaze snapped to Jag's. "You think Jacen has gone to the dark side?"

"I know he has."

"That is a powerful accusation, Jag. You shouldn't make it lightly," his father cautioned. "What makes you so certain?"

"When Jacen used the galactic link to send the Tenupe mission specifics to me, he never asked me to protect his family."

"But that was an integral part of the agreement you negotiated with the Chiss before handing over the intelligence," Soontir said.

"It was a part I added on my own," Jag admitted. At the time, he had assumed Jacen hadn't specified those terms because Jag would know that his family was sacred. But now, after replaying the conversations over and over, Jag knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jacen had said exactly what he had intended.

Suddenly several small objects on the desk began to rattle, and the framed holos on the walls started to vibrate. Jag's musings ended instantly, and he looked into his father's good eye and knew exactly who he was staring at.

Jag popped from his chair, spinning toward the door. "Jaina."

She stood in the hall; fists clenched at her sides. Her scowl held fury beyond anything he had ever seen; her eyes brimmed with immeasurable sadness.

He stepped forward. "Jaina..."

Backing away, she kept her distance as if magnetically repulsed. When Jag reached the door, Jaina spun on her heel and fled. He would have started after her, but a strong hand captured his elbow.

"Better let me handle this, Son."

Jag glanced over his shoulder. "You have no idea what Jaina can be like."

"You forget how well I know her father. I think I do."

*****


	12. Child of Mine

_**Child of Mine**_

"_Jaina, don't do it._" Zekk's voice crackled over the comm. "_We're in no condition to take on that ship._"

"_Reorww grrro orhorhorh._"

"_No,_" Tahiri countered. "Mara _will kill us if we scratch these fighters before we even finish our first shakedown._"

Jaina continued to guide her StealthX toward the pair of vessels hovering in the dark void of the Gutanu Spur, a nearly starless swath of space near the Ossus system. It had seemed like the perfect place to take the new fighters for a quick interdiction mission; now Jaina was beginning to think there was more, that the Force had simply guided them to this place. Ahead, a frigate loomed over a foundering freighter. The smaller ship was venting atmosphere aft and fires flickered across its bow.

A shiny metal sphere about four meters in diameter drifted between the two ships. That was where Jaina needed to be.

"_Arrarr rewooo._"

"_We can jump back and send for reinforcements,_" Tahiri said.

"_That would be the prudent thing to do._" Zekk kept his fighter alongside Jaina's. She couldn't see it, but she could feel it. He was always there, hovering nearby, ever since…At least she didn't have to worry about getting some private time in the near future; Zekk simply wasn't crazy enough to follow her where she intended to go.

"_Urggg grrr huff._"

"_You're right, Lowie. She won't listen._"

"Funny how everyone talks about me like I don't exist."

Although Jaina hadn't used the comm, a resounding sensation of the other three Jedi rolling their eyes flowed back through the bond they shared. Sighing, Jaina dismissed their annoyance and unbuckled her restraints.

"Sneaky, initiate a slow axial roll on my mark."

The astromech whistled a shrill query.

"You know the fighter's specs. You'll be fine."

_Bloop bloo?_

"Once I'm clear, jump back to Ossus and issue a distress call."

Sneaky issued a doleful honk.

Ignoring him, Jaina took a deep breath and snapped her visor down. "Mark."

The attitude thrusters fired and the fighter began its deliberate roll. Her timing was nearly perfect and the StealthX slipped invisibly between the two ships. As the sphere tumbled across her viewport, Jaina triggered the canopy override. Air vented from the cockpit with a hiss, and Jaina allowed her body to flow outward with it. A quick somersault cleared her legs of her fighter's hull as it continued past. Blindly Jaina reached out, feeling her fingers skim the sphere's surface.

She found purchase and grabbed hold. At the same moment, the sphere shuddered.

Apparently Zekk was crazier than she'd thought.

His grim determination filled her thoughts, and Jaina was reminded otherwise. No matter, there was little time to consider it. The sphere, rotating in the clutches of a tractor beam, brought their destination into view. The frigate's hangar bay yawned like a ravenous mouth waiting for its prey to arrive.

The sting of the magbarrier pricked her skin a moment before the familiar pressure of atmosphere weighed down upon her once more. In unison, she and Zekk leapt from the sphere, their lightsabers igniting in a blaze of color.

The frigate's crew was completely unprepared for the sight of two Jedi bounding from their seized prize, and they hardly put up a fight. Jaina used a Force hold to yank away the two nearest blasters before they were even aimed. Zekk roundhoused the one technician brave enough to rush them. A flurry of arcs from their lightsabers warded away a few close shots. With simultaneous thrusts of their palms, Jaina and Zekk sent the last two crew members left standing crashing into the bulkhead.

They used the Force to slam the pair of access doors shut, isolating the hangar bay from the rest of the ship. Running to the nearest control panel, Jaina felt the rumble of cannon fire shake the deck. In the battle meld she could tell that despite their earlier protests, Tahiri and Lowie were enjoying putting the new fighters through their paces. With one hand she flipped off her helmet; the other flew over the keypad. It didn't take long to trip the first level security locks for the doors.

Zekk skidded to her side. "Can you lock them out?"

"Give me a second."

He gave her two. "You should have waited for the reinforcements."

Her back, throbbing from the agony of muscles not yet ready for this level of exertion, was inclined to agree with him. "It would have been too late by then."

"You don't know that."

"They had what they came for," Jaina said, indicating the sphere with a tilt of her head.

Zekk started to say something else, then clacked his mouth shut. He wasn't about to admit she was right. She wasn't about to rub it in, either. She knew how he felt about the matter; he knew her view in turn. There was no need to say it aloud.

"Got it," she announced.

"The magbarrier controls as well?"

She arched an eyebrow. "I'd keep the helmet nearby if I were you."

It took only a heartbeat for Zekk to realize she was teasing him. Shaking his head, he walked back toward the sphere. "We need to find the remote –"

"You mean this?" Jaina bent down, reaching for a charred controller. Just in case, she depressed a key or two. As expected there was no response, and she tossed the controller aside. "We'll just have to do this the hard way."

They ignited their lightsabers and were about to begin slicing through the sphere's hull when a flash of warning sparked in the battle meld. They stepped back from the sphere just as a huge explosion aft rocked the frigate. From the intensity and direction, Jaina was pretty sure she knew the cause. The elation soaring through the battle meld confirmed her suspicions.

"Must be –"

"– the engines," Zekk finished for her.

A timid smile crept across her lips. This wasn't the first time they had shared a thought, but the instances were becoming more frequent. And that was a little disconcerting, because at times it seemed like Zekk knew her better than she knew herself. Regardless, she was glad to have his friendship back. Despite everything that had happened between them during the war, Zekk had found a way to allow his long unrequited love for her to become placid and unconditional. He had found peace in his role as a Jedi; someday she hoped to have that too.

Someday she hoped loving Jag wouldn't hurt as much. That she could let him go, as Zekk had released his feelings for her.

Jaina considered all this while she and Zekk sliced their lightsabers through the metallic hull. They withdrew their blades once a glowing circle had formed. With his palm outstretched, Zekk summoned the newly formed disk to him, settling it on the hangar floor. Jaina moved to the opening, using the Force to cool the hot edges.

She stuck her head into the dark interior. "You're fine now. We've come to rescue you."

A dozen or more pairs of eyes blinked back at her. Fear and hesitation rippled in the Force, so Jaina sent calming waves toward the huddle of nervous forms.

Finally a small figure crept forward in the shadows. "Are-are you Je-je-jedi?"

Jaina nodded. "Yes."

"Ha-have you killed…the bad men?"

"They won't hurt you any more." Jaina forced a smile when she realized it was children clustered in the back of the sphere. She despised pirates and all they stood for, but this kind was the worst. Slavers. Child slavers, who would rip families apart in the name of profit. Who knew what fate these children had been destined for? A spice mine? A honga factory? Or worse?

Zekk's reassuring hand on her shoulder helped still the powerful emotions threatening to consume her. Jaina inhaled slowly and released her ire in a long breath. This was her destiny, to stand between the weak and those who would victimize them. It had been the Force's will, and she had answered it.

The bravest child peeked her head through the opening, a riot of unkempt red hair framing blue eyes. "The baby is not well."

The moment Jaina had found her center, she careened once more into a tumultuous pit of emotions. "The… baby?"

The girl beckoned another youngster forward. He held in his arms a tiny, motionless bundle.

Zekk moved to nudge Jaina aside. "I can –"

"No." She stood her ground, holding out her arms. She fought to hide the trembling in her hands as the boy offered her the baby. It was so light, yet so heavy. Shutting her eyes, Jaina reached out with her perceptions and touched the infant. His life force was weak; Jaina opened herself to him, allowing healing energy to wash across his body.

"Is he dead?" the brave little girl asked.

Only then did Jaina realize she was crying. Her baby had been lost for nearly a year now, yet the emotions were so raw they physically hurt. She shook her head once. "No, he will be fine."

Without another word, Jaina walked away. Zekk needed no encouragement to take over at the sphere. He helped the children clamber out and kept them at bay while Jaina worked silently to bolster the baby's strength. The Force had taken her child so others would live; Jaina wasn't about to lose this one without a fight.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity wrapped in her battle with life and death, the first rescue ships breached the magbarrier. A team of Jedi, obviously dispatched from Ossus, rushed down the ramp. Jaina hurried toward them, a healer meeting her halfway. After passing the infant off, Jaina could hardly stand. Her back screamed in protest anew; her legs quivered uncontrollably. The healer paused long enough to glance back at her.

"Jedi Solo will be fine." Zekk was at her side. "Tend to the child."

Gently he ushered her to a corner of the hangar. A bustle of activity existed only a short distance away, yet Zekk managed to create a quiet zone where no sound or even emotional energy could buffet her. Her arms crossed her stomach as sobs threatened to wrack her body. Jaina gazed out through the magbarrier and stared into the dark hollow of space, a reflection of exactly how she felt inside.

In that very moment a fleeting notion of unity and sympathy touched her in the emptiest cavities of her soul. The sensation even had a direction, the one she faced – the Unknown Regions. Could it be Jag? Could he possibly share her pain?

"I feel it too," Zekk said softly.

Her heart sank. For a long moment she couldn't speak. "You… do?"

"Yes."

Thankfully, he didn't try to touch her or comfort her beyond his steady, calming presence. She was too fragile for more, too weakened by an aching need to fill the void in her heart. For all the appearance she gave of independence, of relishing her life as a loner, Jaina knew more and more lately that she needed a partner who would give her acceptance and compassion, the two things Jag had given her freely all those years. Luckily, Zekk knew better than she how dangerous temptation could be.

Instead she asked the Force for the serenity she needed, to fill the ache in her heart. Jaina withdrew into herself and let all the hurt funnel out. The dark emotions nipping at her spirit were more treacherous evil than any slavers she had faced. Slowly, excruciatingly, she reached the tranquil center Zekk had taught her to find at times like these.

"The doctor would like to examine you now."

Jaina opened her eyes and nodded.

At first the two women said little. Jaina simply followed Syal from the small alcove where she had been meditating toward the far end of the compound. Although Syal had given her no reason to feel uncomfortable, Jaina did. Words were elusive. What was she supposed to say? Syal seemed to treat visits from injured, fugitive ex-girlfriends as a normal, everyday occurrence. If anything, the fact that Syal acted so utterly at ease around Jaina made it worse. Scorn or malice would have been easy enough to deflect; Jaina would have erected her usual defense mechanisms. She was utterly at a loss how to react to this.

Syal glanced down, her blue eyes aglow with a question. "I understand my brother is your hold-father."

Jaina swallowed. "He is."

"Have you seen him recently?"

"Wedge…I mean General Antilles." She shook her head to finish the answer.

The Killik war had been long and hard. She had not seen much of anyone, recently, even her family. That thought ignited a troublesome flame deep inside. Anxieties erupted like embers on a building fire. Mom? Dad? Were they safe?

And Jacen –

"Are you all right, child?"

Jaina blinked. Syal stood before her, looking genuinely concerned. With Jaina frozen in the hallway, one hand clutched around herself, it was no wonder why.

She nodded.

"Perhaps it was a good thing Doctor Tarado had to return early," Syal said, leading Jaina by the elbow.

A blush rose in her cheeks. "I'm sorry about that."

"What? My foolish husband's head?" The former holostar brushed off the apology with a flap of her free hand. "He should have known better than to charge after you like that."

Despite the assurance, Jaina winced at the reminder. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop on Jag and his family, only to meet them head on before her nerves got the better of her. As she had approached the room, though, she had heard her brother's name. When Jaina had arrived at the threshold, the three Fels were so engrossed in the conversation they had not noticed her arrival.

Jag's admission had been too much to bear. She had fled to the hangar, even with Soontir in pursuit. One way or another she had needed to get off that rock. Although even now she wasn't sure if it had been to face Jacen or escape Jag's betrayal. In the end, it didn't matter. When Soontir had approached her at the _Falcon_'s boarding controls, in her rage she had erected a Force bubble and he had strode directly into the invisible wall. The impact had sent the sizable man reeling backward and left him with a split brow and concussion. Undaunted, the veteran soldier had stood and faced her again. He had marched right at her, calling her bluff – and at the very last possible millisecond she had dropped her shielding.

By the time Soontir Fel had finished with her, Jaina had held no doubts about when and how she would be leaving the Fel family compound. She wasn't a prisoner, but she was a captive guest until the _Falcon_'s repairs were complete and Doctor Tarado had given her a clean bill of health. Soontir had finished by declaring, "No way am I ending up with your father putting a death mark on my head because you went and did something Solo foolish." Even if she had wanted to say anything, there was no retort for that.

"There's the silly general now," Syal exclaimed brightly, breaking Jaina's reverie.

Face to face with Soontir, who had been attended to first by the doctor, Jaina hesitated. She offered him a curt nod and continued past. "Sir."

"Jaina," he returned, continuing on his way without pausing.

Syal leaned in and whispered, "See? No worse for wear."

"That bump looks pretty bad to me."

"He's even more hard-headed than his sons, if you can believe it." Syal winked. "Besides, it didn't hurt his head as much as his pride, I assure you."

For a moment Jaina felt a tug at the corner of her mouth, but she fought it. Although Syal's affection for the men in her life was infectious, Jaina had no need for men of any type in her life, especially not a Fel. The desire to smile faded with her sinking heart.

Syal placed a palm on Jaina's back, ushering her into the medical room. "Don't worry about seeing the doctor, either."

Jaina paused, eyeing the medbunk where she had spent a few unconscious days. Only then did she remember the Chiss doctor also had been on the receiving end of her rash behavior. "Rodder."

She would have turned to leave, but a firm pair of hands settled on her shoulders. "Oh no you don't, young lady."

An insistent shove sent Jaina toward the medbunk. Begrudgingly she scooted onto it, settling with her hands trapped between her knees. The doctor drifted into the room from the small lab in the adjoining room and busied about the equipment for the better part of a minute. Finally, he turned to Syal and addressed her in his native tongue.

Syal translated. "Doctor Tarado will examine you now. I will return when he finishes." Before Jaina could protest, she swept from the room and shut the door behind her.

Using gestures, the Chiss indicated each step in his examination. A few times it took more than one try for Jaina to understand his meaning, but overall the process was remarkably smooth and non-threatening. In fact, the doctor seemed to be going out of his way to shed the usual gruff exterior that marked most Chiss in favor of a pacifying steadfastness. After only about ten minutes, he walked to the door and triggered it open.

Syal entered the room with a warm smile. "I hope you two made friends."

Jaina returned an awkward, half-hearted grin; the doctor, oblivious to the meaning of the greeting, simply tapped information into his datapad. After an anxious delay, Jaina felt compelled to ask, "How much longer will this take?"

Syal didn't relay the question. "The doctor tends to be thorough."

Dipping her head, Jaina scooted off the medbunk and began to prowl the room. After surveying all the tiny area had to see, then scrutinizing down the corridor one way and the other, finally she approached Syal. "You asked about Wedge earlier."

"Yes."

"I could take something back to him if you'd like. A message, maybe."

Smiling appreciatively, Syal brushed her fingers along Jaina's arm. "You're so kind to offer. I think I will have my own opportunity soon enough though."

"Oh." The idea struck Jaina. She had always thought of Jag's family as being firmly entrenched in the Unknown Regions, but now…

"Do you know where he is?"

Jaina had to think about the question. She had been so out of touch these last few months. "I don't know. If I had to venture a guess, he and Iella will be on Coruscant. That was their home before the Vong incursion."

"Not Corellia?"

"Wedge has a Corellian's heart, but a patriot's soul. He always felt he could do the most good serving the Alliance."

Syal tipped her head. "Jag said much the same thing."

Thankfully, the Chiss interrupted before things could get anymore uncomfortable for Jaina. Syal listened to him intently, then motioned Jaina back toward the medbunk. "Please, sit."

Doctor Tarado continued to explain. Finally Syal said, "He says you have recovered beyond his expectations, even after he noted your quicker than usual healing."

There had been little to do on this desolate moon but meditate, and it also had the advantage of being a convenient way to avoid awkward run-ins with Jag – and, since yesterday, his father.

Jaina affected a half-cocked grin. "Yes. It's a Jedi trick."

After Syal relayed Jaina's explanation, she and the doctor engaged in a brief conversation. Then the doctor approached the bed, summoning Syal to his side. Without so much as asking, he peeled up the back of Jaina's tunic.

"Oh my," Syal exclaimed. "What happened to you, Jaina?"

She hopped from the medbunk, tugging her tunic down. "The price of being a Jedi."

The doctor prattled at Syal. She in turn asked, "He would like to know why that did not heal as well."

"Because I didn't want it to." Turning away, Jaina crossed her arms. "I fail to see how this has anything to do with my recovery."

"Of course," Syal said. "I apologize."

"Do I have a clean bill of health?"

After conferring with the doctor, Syal circled to face Jaina. "You do."

Releasing her breath in a hiss, Jaina wasn't sure why she felt more disheartened than relieved. "All I have to do is fix the _Falcon_ now."

The decision rendered, Jaina pivoted to address the doctor. "Thank you."

He smiled, then nodded in return. While Jaina made haste for the door, the doctor chattered away with Syal. Jaina had a foot in the hallway when Syal called after her.

"Jaina. The doctor wanted to tell you one more thing."

She swiveled back, looking into the room. She stood there as Doctor Tarado gave Syal a lengthy explanation. At first, the older woman listened intently, then Jaina sensed a burst of shock. Syal shook her head and snapped back a response. The doctor only became more insistent.

Glancing over at Jaina, Syal said nothing, but there was something in her eyes…Hurt? Disappointment? "I can't."

With that, Syal brushed past Jaina and whisked away down the hall.

Now Jaina had to know. "What did you say?"

The doctor looked back down at his datapad and tapped away.

Throwing up her hands in frustration, Jaina realized the language barrier was going to get them nowhere. Fortunately, she probably could get Cem to translate whatever it was. She started out of the room again –

"Wait," Doctor Tarado said.

She slowly turned over her shoulder. "Did you say _wait_?"

"Yes."

"I thought you didn't speak Basic?"

"Only poorly," the doctor returned in a heavy accent.

Jaina stalked over to him. "So what is this about?"

"I researched your condition," he said proudly. "There have been new advances in –"

"My condition?"

"Yes. The scarring in your uterus, which makes you unable to bear children."

Jaina stood in stunned silence. It was something she didn't think about, let alone talk about. Cilghal had explained the ramifications of her miscarriage, but her life choices had made the implications moot.

"I assume the injuries occurred when you aborted the fetus."

Horror and disgust washed through Jaina, and she stumbled backward – right into a wall. Spinning to find how far she had misjudged the doorway, Jaina discovered she hadn't. The wall was Jag. Only then did she realize only the horror she felt was her own; the disgust was entirely Jag's.

"Does he know?" Jag spat.

"Who?"

"Zekk."

"Does he know what?"

"That you aborted his baby –"

The ricochet of Jaina's hand against Jag's cheek silenced his condemnation.

"Your baby, Jag. _Yours!_"

The slap hadn't moved him, but her words did. She stepped toward him, urged on by years of suffering this loss alone, now only to be misjudged by the one person who should have cared.

"Just in case you haven't figured it out for yourself already, I lost the baby when I got the scar. I would have given my life for our child, if I could have. Nothing could ever make me take an innocent life." For all her rage, tears boiled down her cheeks. "Then again, I thought you knew me better than that."

Jaina shoved past Jag, and he wilted in her path as easily as a branch in the wind. "If you did, you'd know there was never anyone but you."

*****


	13. Sincerely

_**Sincerely**_

_Ribbons of blue. Flashes of orange so bright they were nearly white. Rivers of red. Colors accosted him, brutal assailants in a soundless din. In the center of it all stood Jaina, her arms outstretched to hold the mayhem at bay. A child's cry pierced the silence, and the flurry of blues, oranges and reds flared outward, fleeing from her power. Then, in a sudden, awful reversal, the colors converged, drowning Jaina in a sea of black._

Jag bolted awake. His breath came in ragged gasps; sweat beaded on his chest. Shivering, he fought to find a center within the storm of emotions. It took a full minute to regain some sense of control; he watched every second tick off the chrono on his wall. The recovery was slower than ever, but perhaps that was because he hadn't experienced a dream like this in quite some time. As much as he tried, he was unable to find a true equilibrium.

When Jaina had first walked out of his life, barely an hour could pass without some memory of her creeping into thoughts. It had been an incredible task of pure will to banish her from his waking contemplations. Then the dreams had started. Not dreams, nightmares – vivid images and agonizing sensations tangled in a cacophonous jumble. All of them so troubling he feared to sleep. Eventually, Jag had begun to despise the remembrances of her, the good along with the bad, with such ire he worried darker emotions would cripple him forever.

Finally, one day he simply had willed his mind to stop. So why now, tonight, had the nightmares returned with a vengeance?

Sweeping the covers back, Jag clambered out of bed. The motion detectors caught the sudden movement and flashed the illumination to a blinding glare. One hand shielding his eyes, Jag stumbled across the stateroom to his desk. He blinked, barely able to make out the keys on his datapad. After a few incorrect entries, he managed to scroll his personal calendar across the viewscreen.

Toggling back through the months, Jag ultimately came to the entry recording the completion of the repairs to the _Rising Storm_. That was the only reminder registered in the log, but he remembered every moment of that day in dramatic detail. The day had started off as the one in which he and Jaina would become engaged. It had ended with him alone with a mended ship and a fragmented heart.

Then his eyes were drawn to the small number in the lower corner, indicating the corresponding date on the Corellian calendar. That fateful day had been one Corellian year ago – exactly.

Flopping backward into chair, Jag stared dumbfounded at the screen. His mind might have shut out Jaina and all her memories, but his heart had never forgotten. Had they been engaged as he had planned, Corellian tradition dictated that this very day would have been their wedding.

Pounding within his chest like a Wookiee war drum, his heart demanded to be heard. _Fool!_, it called him. _Fair-haired fool who let her walk away._ If Jag regretted one thing the most, it was not making her listen. She had never heard his side of the story. Had he been too proud then? Or was he too proud now to let his mistake go? What if he could banish all the regrets?

_You can!_ His heart was emboldened by his ruminations. _What are you afraid of?_

_No fear. No regrets._

"Stop!" Throwing his hands to either side of his head, Jag tried to drown out the din. But it was pointless; the boisterous protests echoed from the very depths of his soul. Finally acquiescing to the demands, Jag slapped the nearby comm line. "Report."

"Sir…" The night bridge officer offered little more initially. A lieutenant, Jag recalled. On his first command tour, no less. To his credit, the lieutenant recovered quickly. "Systems checks reported within acceptable tolerances at 0300. Fleetwide cheeks will occur at 0400. Helm has maintained course and speed since last ordered. Arrival at Adumar is projected to be on schedule."

"Order helm to increase to maximum speed."

"Sir?" The lieutenant was rightly confused. "What of the remainder of the fleet?"

The Fifth Fleet's flagship was an engineering marvel. It could outrun anything within the Chiss navy with relative ease. But Jag did not need the entire fleet right now. Only this ship. "Leave them behind."

"So ordered, sir."

"Have the hangar crew prepare my clawcraft for departure."

"Your shuttle –"

"My clawcraft," Jag said brusquely.

"Yes, sir."

Jag's agitation abated when the hum of the engines winding up vibrated throughout the ship. The thrumming of his heart slowed to a steady beat, and for the first time he felt like he was closing on the final chapter of one tale among many in his life. The only question remaining was whether fate held in store a sequel to this book.

Grabbing his personal bag from the stowage compartment, Jag packed quickly. He dressed in civilian attire, a rare occurrence of late, and left all signs of his role in the Ascendancy behind as he walked to the stateroom door. Without looking back, Jag stepped into the corridor and made a sharp left for the hangar bay. The walk seemed eternal; every Chiss serving night duty happened to wander into his path.

He had a hundred opportunities to turn around, and Jag swatted them all away. He had set this course; he would see it through.

Entering the hangar, Jag paused momentarily at the sight of his brother. Cem stood near the _Falcon_'s cockpit module, a handful of tools in one hand, his gaze affixed to the small figure dangling underneath the hull. Bent on seeing his decision through, Jag inhaled one deep breath and marched toward them.

Cem noticed Jag immediately, but only acknowledged him with the lift of a brow. "So Jaina, how soon do you think you'll be ready to ship out?"

Jag stopped in his tracks to listen to Jaina's reply.

"I think –" She grunted, straining against the hydrospanner she held in her hand. "–after I dog this hatch I'll be ready to run a systems check."

Cem studied Jag out of the corner of his eye. "That soon?"

"Hopefully." Jaina wiped a hand across her brow and down along her cheek, leaving a greasy streak in its wake. In his remembrances, those were the visual memories he sifted through the most. She always appeared unaffected and happiest when fixing things. Grease, grime, and all, she was simply beautiful. The wear and tear of years of war faded, leaving only her raw, youthful radiance.

She studied her handiwork, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Can I trade you for the microwelder?"

Cem stepped aside, holding out the microwelder for Jag. Shaking his palm, Jag waved off the offer, but discharged Cem from the conversation with a tilt of his head. Without objection, Cem slipped over to the toolkit and silently deposited his cache of tools before tiptoeing from the hangar. Jag eyed Jaina's outstretched hand, then placed the lone stem he held into her waiting palm.

At first, she did nothing. He knew she felt it; he could see in the rigid set of her shoulders that she recognized his presence.

They had spoken only once since she had overheard his fears about Jacen, and that had been more a slugfest than a discussion. For whatever reason, a relationship that had been about finishing the other's thoughts had now spiraled into eavesdropping and jumping to conclusions. He held his breath, anxiously hoping that his simple present would speak the words they had been unable to find.

Slowly Jaina's fingers closed around the stem. She drew the white flower adorning it toward her face. Closing her eyes, Jaina drew in a breath and held it. "A Corellian gladiolus."

"A sword lily."

She opened her eyes and stared at the white bud. "I remember."

Years ago, Jag had found a patch of them growing wild in one of the abandoned Borleias hothouses. Later, his father had confirmed what he had suspected at the time – Soontir had cultivated the flowers in homage to his time apart from Syal. It had been a gesture of the heart. In those heady days, Jaina had told Jag it must have been a sign from the Force.

"Jaina… Can we talk?"

At first she gave no indication of having heard his request. She clutched the flower to her breast, appearing to slip into a meditative state. He waited. When she finally opened her eyes to look at him, he held up his hand in offering.

She took it.

Lithe as a sandpanther, Jaina rolled out of the rope harness that suspended her below the _Falcon_. She hadn't needed his help, but she had accepted it anyway. Now standing beside him, Jaina gazed up pensively. Jag didn't let go of her hand; he only shifted it within his grasp. Without a word, he started toward the hangar exit. Jaina matched him stride for stride. In a strange yet comfortable silence, they walked through the halls of the outpost.

Jag led and Jaina followed. His fingers slid between hers, the connection natural and effortless. He almost couldn't bring himself to let go when the time came. Arriving at the western end of the complex, Jag released his hold to manually tackle the door. He cranked the large handle until the portal released with a hiss.

Stepping aside, he ushered Jaina inside first. Cautiously she stuck her head through the threshold and looked left then right, where she noticed the ladder scaling the wall to one side. Without question, she began to ascend. Jag waited until she was clear, then entered the narrow shaft. He dogged the door shut and entered a code in the access panel. Halfway up the ladder, Jag heard the locking mechanism click into place. Jaina paused at the top to look down at him.

Jag met her concerned gaze. "We need to clear the air. This way you can't run away."

She extended her hand, and the access panel below crackled. She smirked victoriously. "Now you can't run away either."

He conceded with the tip of his head, then continued his climb. When he emerged into the spacious transparisteel dome, Jaina was wandering along its edge, gazing out into the twinkling brilliance of the Unknown Regions.

"It's beautiful," she whispered.

Jag had something else entirely in mind –the way Jaina looked in that moment, grease-smudged and carefree. Grudgingly he kept a lid on his emotions; they had failed him miserably recently, after all. His goal for today, or however long it took, was to make peace with his relationship with Jaina, to understand where they had gone wrong, and ultimately to move on. Otherwise he would never be able to free himself of these nagging questions…

After Jaina had explored the area a bit, Jag paced over to his personal bag where he had left it in preparation. Digging inside, his fingers brushed over the small plush jewelry sack that rarely left his possession and eventually came to rest on a linen cloth wrapped around a hard object. By the time he straightened with the item in his hand, Jaina had found the glass vase he had set by the small low table in the middle of the room.

She placed the gladiolus in the vase, then turned. "Where did you get the flower?"

"Mother has a small hothouse off their living suite."

"I see." Jaina's shoulders drew up at the mention of Syal.

Jag knew why. He wanted to explain everything: that his mother realized her rush to judgment, that she had been the one who had talked Jag through the bewildering maze of grief and confusion following Jaina's confession, that she –

_Stick to the plan, Jag._

_Start at the beginning._

Not quite the beginning, exactly, but there was only one place Jag could start. He settled beside the small table, crossing his legs as he took a seat on the floor. Jaina sat down across from him.

He fixed her brown-eyed gaze and began. "The lightsaber you handed over to your Aunt. It wasn't the one inscribed _I am the Sword_, was it?"

Her eyes widened. He had expected the question would blind-side her, but there was no better way to cut right to the power cables. After a moment she lowered her gaze and shook her head. "No. I… lost that one."

"When?"

She inhaled; her breath left in a quiver. "A few years ago."

The haunting facts were slipping into place. Despite the hurt in her expression, he pressed onward. "Not at Iodan, less than four months past?"

"Iodan? No." Her brow creased. "I will _never_ forget the day I lost that lightsaber."

Feeling the pain in her words and the truth behind them, Jag knew it was time to reveal his hidden possession. He placed the linen bundle on the small table between them, beckoning Jaina to open the cloth. She reached out, then hesitated. She must have sensed what lay wrapped in the folds before ever peeling back the layers. Her fingers shook as she unwrapped the charred, mangled remains of the weapon.

Tentatively she picked up the hilt, holding it flat in her palm. The inscription faced up, leaving no doubt it was hers. She lifted her eyes up to meet his.

"How did you get this?"

"I found it on Iodan."

Jaina's eyes grew distant, darting back and forth. "A research facility was attacked there shortly before the Chiss offensive on Tenupe."

"Yes."

"You found this after the attack?"

"Some time after, actually."

The lightsaber rolled off Jaina's palm and hit the floor with a hollow _clunk_. "I was never there, Jag. I swear."

The Killik raid on the Iodan research facility had been especially brutal. In fact, it had been the impetus that had pushed the Chiss military commanders from merely considering drastic measures to win the war to actually implementing them. In retrospect, he should have known Jaina was incapable of such wholesale carnage, even in the name of war. At the time, though, the discovery of Jaina's weapon had fit neatly into all he had been told.

"I believe you."

"How…" Jaina's eyes sparkled with unvoiced thoughts, then her expression paled. "Tell me."

Jag took a deep breath and began to tell her everything she needed to hear. How Jacen had contacted him, expressing grave concern about Jaina's part in the war. About Jacen's revelation of the Jedi plan and the role her parents would play. That her brother had never mentioned expressly her family should meet no harm. And how Jacen had sealed the trustworthiness of his information by passing along intelligence regarding the attack on Iodan – including the location of her lightsaber in the rubble.

"No!"

Jaina sprang to her feet, her hand outstretched. The weapon smacked into her palm. She sailed across the room to the farthest durasteel support column. Between her shouts of rage the metallic clangs of the lightsaber hilt beating against the column echoed under the dome. Shards of the weapon sheared off, flying in all directions, until only her bare hand remained to beat away her fury.

Eventually the tide of emotions depleted its reserves, and Jaina fell silent. Slowly Jag rose and walked toward her.

"Don't." She held out her palm in warning; sparks crackled at her fingertips. Even in profile, the obsidian haze clouding her eyes was plainly evident.

Undaunted, he stepped to her side and rested a hand on her shoulder. "Jaina, for all the times I have failed to believe in you, I am truly sorry."

"You believed in Jacen," she whispered, raw emotion boiling in her words. She shrugged off his hand and refused to look up at him, instead staring off into the night sky.

He inhaled a long breath. "I was hurt. I wanted to believe you were the one who cared less about me… About anyone for that matter."

She glanced up, her eyes now dark with hurt, not rage. "You wanted me to be the bad guy."

"I didn't want to admit I did anything wrong."

Crossing her arms, Jaina turned back toward the transparisteel wall. "Like not telling the truth about your promotion."

"That wasn't relevant –"

"Like the Corellian hells it wasn't!" Jaina rounded on him. "I was willing to give all of myself to you –"

"That's not –"

"– knowing you were planning to toss me aside –"

"But I never –"

"You better admit you were wrong, Jagged Fel."

"If you'll just give me a chance to –"

"– letting me go on, crawling into your bed at night, when I was about to be a nice memory of the –"

"I never took the damn job, Jaina!"

A mutually stunned silence hung in the air between them.

Jag couldn't recall ever having yelled like that before. Jaina recoiled, blinking.

He seized the opportunity. "While we were working on the _Rising Storm_, I forwarded a formal letter of resignation to the Chiss Ascendancy. That day we argued, the opportunity was irrelevant because it no longer existed."

"But… Shawnkyr said…"

"She was misinformed."

The fire in her eyes and voice began to flicker and fade. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Because you would have tried to talk me out of it."

"No, I –" She stopped herself, a faint whisper of a smile crossed her lips. "Yeah, you're right. I probably would have. But so what if I did?"

He sighed. "Well… Then I would have had to tell you the truth."

"The truth?"

"The truth, Jaina, is that the very thing I wanted to talk about the night you left me, what I had intended to say…" He paused, just long enough to stop his voice from trembling. "I was going to ask you to be my wife. And I wanted that so much I would have given up a hundred command positions to make it happen."

The admission sent her reeling. Falling back a step, she clutched her midsection with one hand and caught her balance on the durasteel column with the other. She almost seemed to fall into herself, shrinking before his eyes. He reached out and grasped her by the arm. This time she didn't resist, and he ushered her to a nearby alcove where she collapsed onto the bench. He settled next to her and waited. After a minute of silent contemplation, she still could not find her voice.

But there was more they needed to share. "Jaina, where did you lose the lightsaber?"

Stiffening, she clenched her hands in her lap. "On Granjanjin."

His breath fled in a hiss. Images swirled around him. The explosion, and a familiar face in its midst – Jaina's face. She hadn't been a figment of his wounded soul after all.

"It was you. You were the one."

Hunched over, Jaina tipped her head. Then, abruptly, her words poured forth. The extent of her emotional turmoil when she had raced from the _Rising Storm_. Her subsequent illness on Ossus, and the discovery of her pregnancy. Her realization of the mistake with the contraceptive injection, and why she had taken the pregnancy as a sign. How she had followed the guidance of the Force right to the base of the dais on Granjanjin, where their child's life had been sacrificed to save so many others.

"No," he gasped, bolting from the alcove.

The truth was more than he could bear. Jaina had been pregnant the day they had fought, highly susceptible to her emotions, and he had just let her run from his life, more concerned about his pride than her well-being, emotionally or physically. In the most bitter of ironies, she had come back to him, only to lose her child in the process. It was the cruelest twist of fate Jag could imagine. An innocent life taken to spare his.

"I couldn't face you after that." Jaina had walked up behind him. Her hand tentatively touched his back. "At the time, I hid behind duty to the Force, but… I see the truth now. I just couldn't face feeling the pain in your heart. I'd failed you; I'd lost our child. I couldn't bear it if you hated me –"

He wheeled, grabbing her by both arms. "Don't you know I could never hate you?"

She stared up with her big brown liquid eyes. "There's a fine line between love and hate, Jag."

"Look, I'll admit that I disagreed with your participation in the war. I didn't understand. I didn't _want_ to understand; it was easier that way. I was angry at you, too. For a lot of reasons, some of them from misinformation and lies. But I would never allow myself to hate you, Jaina."

"We've tried to kill each other," she reminded him.

"Could you really have finished the deed?"

"No." She never hesitated. "Then our child's sacrifice would have been for nothing."

"I could have taken you a time or two, you know." Her eyebrow arched, so he continued, "You were flying tired on Tenupe. Certainly not your best."

She waved it off. "I know. You're right."

They fell silent. The painful reality was now spread out before them. Failings exposed in all their gruesome glory. It made a stark contrast to the sincere persons Jaina and Jag presented for the galaxy to see. Maybe, Jag thought, there was nothing left to say except –

"Jaina, I'm sorry for walking in on your conversation with the doctor. I had no right."

She shook her head. "I think it's best if we just call it even on that one."

He paused; this would be the hardest. "I shouldn't have jumped to the conclusion I did. It was unfair. I do know you better than that. But I just… for some reason, I just get so jealous."

"Jealous? Of Zekk?"

He nodded.

For the first time, Jaina reached out beyond a tentative touch and wrapped her fingers tightly around his. "Zekk will never be more than a friend, and he knows that. He was there in my darkest hour, and for that I can never repay him. _You_ were my heart, and our baby for the short time I had her, too."

"Her?"

Jaina's jaw flapped, and her eyes darted away before coming back to meet his gaze. "Yes. Sometimes it's easier just to say _the baby_. It's still hard for me, even now."

Suddenly for Jag, it was becoming incredibly hard. Until that moment, he hadn't been able to grasp the reality of what he had lost. There had been no image in his mind or distinctness in his heart. But that simple knowledge – a daughter – transformed an enigmatic idea into something real. In an instant there was a hole in his heart. Looking down at Jaina, he could imagine a beautiful little brown-eyed, brown-haired girl standing at her side.

The reality of his loss crushed his heart to the point it could barely beat. Tears streamed down his face. His chest constricted so he could hardly breathe. His legs buckled, his knees crashing into the floor. The simple act of living became too painful to bear.

Then Jaina was there, her fingers wiping away the salty flow of his tears. "I am so sorry."

He saw her pain matched his own, and his heart ached anew. His hands rose to cover his face and the shame written across it. Sobbing into his palms, Jag was unable to control the release. He was the worst measure of a man; he had failed the woman he loved, and their child.

A cool touch caressed his brow, and she breathed calming waves of assurance across his skin. The ripples flowed directly into the core of his being, softening the wracking of his body. She kissed him on the bridge of his nose as she gently pulled his fingers aside. He was powerless to resist. She brushed her lips over one eyelid and the other, and suddenly Jag's lips demanded service of their own. His arms crushed around her thin frame at the same time her palms cupped his cheeks.

Their mouths found each other like they had never been apart. The kiss was tender and demanding, soft and solid, breathtaking and unbreakable. For the first time in far too long, Jag felt complete.

*****

TKL/dl


	14. Resolution

_**Resolution **_

_The scene around her was just as she had imagined it. As far as the eye could see, the smooth plane of pink-hued sand stretched out like a ribbon, finally rounding the small bend of the peninsula and disappearing into the brilliant cerulean sea. Lazy waves lapped at the shoreline, rolling back into the depths in a timeless rhythm. Overhead, hollyians flapped their wings and fluttered on the afternoon breeze. In the distance triplet suns raced to their beds and cast flaming shadows across the watery horizon._

Jaina blinked in disbelief at the splendor, then settled comfortably into the gentle embrace of the strong arms wrapped around her. She inhaled slowly. In unison she and Jag released a contented breath. If her uncle hadn't wandered into her field of vision, she might have forgotten they were far from alone in this perfect place. Luke smiled in hesitant expectation, almost awkward at having disrupted his niece's bliss.

Jaina smiled back a reassurance. He was here for a reason, as was the small gathering of those she loved the most standing in a semi-circle behind her.

Luke cleared his throat. "Are you ready?"

Jag's arms tightened their hold for an instant, refusing to let go. Gazing over her shoulder, Jaina peered up into his sparkling green eyes. They held each other's stare for the span of several heartbeats, then separated without truly parting. Jaina held Jag's hands; he held hers in turn as they faced one another. His eyes adored her from top to bottom, taking in every inch of her.

Just then the breeze intensified. The multi-colored dress selected to match the ocean and sand flapped around her legs, and her brown tresses, untamed and loose, whipped around her face. Jaina had chosen simple and feminine. Jag's attire, of course, marked the formality and décor of this momentous day. Stunning and refined in his dark uniform, he had never looked more handsome. They were still locked in this shared reverence as Luke began.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate a milestone in the lives of someone dear to us. As in any great step forward in life, this event should be approached with respect for the great gift given to us by the Force."

Luke paused when Jaina broke her concentration long enough to cast her uncle a sideways glance. They had agreed – no Force talk. Luke smiled in that encouraging way Jedi Masters favored, and proceeded as Jaina turned back to smile lovingly at her lover and soulmate.

"We are here to honor the commitment Jaina has chosen to express in every facet of her life. A commitment to honor, to serve, to obey without question or fear. A commitment to none other than the Force itself."

Jaina's head whipped back to her uncle.

"Jaina." Luke looked into her eyes in the same solemn way he had looked upon the gathering of young Jedi Knights who had answered his challenge to destroy the voxyn queen on Myrkr. She remembered all too well how that had ended. She shivered despite the warm evening air and the promise of the joyful union about to be joined. He continued, "I name you the Sword of the Jedi."

She opened her mouth to protest, but no sound came out. It was as if she had been struck mute, her voice stolen.

"You are like tempered steel, purposeful and razor-keen."

Maybe this was just some dreadful prank. Perhaps Jacen had planned one of his horribly timed jokes…

She broke free of Jag's grasp to get a better view behind her. Her eyes darted through the crowd, scanning for the impish delight only she knew how to read in her brother's face. But he was nowhere to be found. More than once her frantic brain tricked her into thinking she saw him amid the gathered celebrants, but each time she took a good look, he wasn't there. Jacen wasn't there.

"Always you shall be in the front rank, a burning brand to your enemies, a brilliant fire to your friends."

The truth flared up, branding her with a painful reminder - Jacen would never be there. Not in the foreseeable future. Not with the path he had chosen. The realization crashed over her like a violent wave. When she emerged, blinking and breathless, Jaina watched in horror as, one at a time, her loved ones faded into thin air. Gone.

"Yours is a restless life, and never shall you know peace, though you shall be blessed for the peace you bring to others."

Only Jag remained. Not even her uncle could be found. His voice had trailed off into the distant howl of the now-roaring wind. Jag held out his hand, beseeching her to take it. He too began to fade, and beyond him she could glimpse the netherworld into which Jag was falling. Her loved ones waited there, on the other side.

Then her brother appeared at her side, whispering in her ear. "Take it. What are you afraid of?"

Peeling her eyes from Jag, she met her twin's emotionless stare. "I'm afraid of you."

He chuckled. "I didn't do this to them, Jaina. You did. You made the wrong choice. You listened to your gut and your heart when you should have heeded the will of the Force. They'll all die because of you, just like Anakin."

She fought to keep the physical wince from showing. "You're the one who endangered Mom and Dad at Tenupe. They could have died."

"You're the one who went to Tenupe. Without you, I would never have had the opening." Jacen canted his head toward Jag. "Besides, I knew he_ wouldn't barter the lives of our parents. His love for you is his weakness."_

"You leave Jag out of this," she growled.

Jacen shrugged. "That's up to you."

"What does that mean?"

"Look at him, Jay."

She did. Even as his presence demanded to be relinquished into the realm beyond, Jag was still reaching for her. The strain wrought great pain across his face, and his knees buckled from the exertion.

A lone tear slipped from the corner of Jaina's eye. She questioned everything at that moment, doubted every decision. Her gut said to grab hold and never let go. But sometimes –

"You are that wave, Jaina." The power of Jacen's will carried in his voice, and she turned to see what he wanted her to see. "And Jag is that rock." She watched numbly as the rolling surf pounded the rocky shoreline. In an instant she witnessed the rock's whole life laid out before her. A volcanic birth, growing, reaching for the sky. Once it had been an enormous cliff, farther out in the sea and higher up. But time and the waves had beaten it back. Eventually it would be nothing, pulverized to kernels of sand, helpless slaves to the tide.

"You will ebb and flow with the demands of the Force, crashing down upon his mere mortality, until he is no more."

"He is no less of a man than you or I simply because he can't use the Force."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But how many times has he tried to fight at your level, followed you into Jedi battles, just because he wanted to save the woman he loved?"

"Jag is a better man than any Jedi," she hissed.

"Great man or not, the odds will catch up with him eventually. You'll rush headlong into something; Jag will follow. You won't be able to save him forever."

"Would you kill him, brother?" She knew the answer.

"My path cannot be stopped."

"You'd choose a path where even our parents' lives are expendable?"

"I didn't choose the path; it chose me. But I never rush into things unprepared. I knew Jag wouldn't let harm come to them."

The fallacies in her brother's rationalizations struck Jaina like a blow to the chin. His justifications reeked of the dark side. Whatever had turned him down this course had warped his reasoning. During Jaina's short recovery after Tenupe, her mother had told her some of what she and Luke had learned about Anakin Skywalker's fall and her grandmother's – she had a name now – Padmé's fate. Perhaps Jaina's gut would lead her astray from time to time, but having once tasted the dark side, her gut told her without a doubt that Jacen would kill them all to achieve his objective.

Jacen had to be stopped.

And that was a task too dangerous for anyone unprepared for the ominous potential her brother had reached. Jaina wasn't even sure she would ever be powerful enough to meet the challenge. But the phantom reminders of loved ones lost told her that she had to try.

Resolutely, Jaina's eyes found Jag once more. Lost and found. Never hers. She whispered words she knew he would never hear from her mute lips. "I'm sorry." She wanted to say more but all she could muster was, "I love you."

Then with tears drowning her vision, she slammed her lids shut. "Goodbye."

The waves stopped breaking. The wind stopped raging. Above, the hollyians ceased to squawk at the joy of flight. There was nothing left but silence and the black void of emptiness.

Save one voice. Hers. Older, wiser. And much more sober than she had ever been. It repeated her destiny. One she had tried to accept before and had failed in her weakness. Loneliness was a terrible sentence, but at least now she knew the consequences if she denied duty.

"Take comfort in the fact," her older self said, "that, though you stand tall and alone, others take shelter in the shadow that you cast."

She awoke with a start. Sweat beaded across her brow and plastered her hair to her head. Her heart pounded in her chest; her breath came in ragged gulps as if she had run ten kilometers full out. Yet she was so terribly cold she shivered uncontrollably.

Jaina shut her eyes and compelled her diaphragm to expand, forcing air into her hungry lungs. In through her nose, out through her mouth. Only when she could feel the slowing of her pulse did she open her eyes once more.

Directly above her a dawning sun peeked out from behind one of its sentinel planets, announcing a new day. In every direction reached the distinct features of the vast Unknown Regions, space so unlike her familiar Core. Opaque memories began to creep into her consciousness, which was still reeling from the quick passage from sleep to waking thought.

The hard plane of floor beneath her back jarred her further awake, and she craned her neck to the side. Her gaze stopped at the sight of Jag, and finally she remembered everything.

He slumbered just over an arm's length away. Wrapped in the lone blanket they had shared, his body had nestled into the few pillows that had been their bed. One pillow had taken her place… in his arms. In sleep, he was blissfully unaware of that fact. His face still reflecting the contentment of a night tangled in his lover's arms.

Jaina closed her eyes once more, trying in vain to banish the sickness welling up from the depths of her. Last night, what they had shared, that had only been a fantasy. Her dream, on the other hand, was truly her reality. In the darkness of her reflection in the transparisteel above, she noticed the trembling of her clenched fist, then cursed the onslaught of her wretched body's failings.

Never had she felt less in control. Weak in body. Weak in mind. Weak in spirit.

But if she failed… The consequences were too horrible to imagine.

With one deep inhalation she rose to her knees. With a second she willed her body to stand. Silently she slipped across the room, gathering her clothing. Once she was dressed Jaina looked toward the exit and hesitated. A short descent away the locked and broken door that had sealed their reunion was now barring her escape.

Desperate to leave before she had to face Jag, she scanned the area quickly. The flash of sunbeams glinting off something metallic caught her eye. Her lightsaber. She crossed to it without thinking twice –

A blanket of dark energy folded over her. Painful remembrances of her violent outburst littered the floor before her. She had touched the darkness, allowed it to embrace her rage. At some point, though, she had let it go. She had released it to Jag's touch.

Jaina backed away, her stronger weapon hand clutching her shaking left hand to still it. On top of everything else, the withdrawal was progressing quickly. Wonderful. She needed to get out, and fast.

On the other side of the expansive room she saw the utility bag Jag had brought to the room in preparation for their meeting. She knew her answer lay there. Padding over in her bare feet, she knelt down and worked the zipper. She paused, her choices bearing down, her guilt making her feel like an unwelcome intruder. Exhaling in a huff, she reached into the opening and deftly found the item she was searching for.

Carefully she withdrew Jag's prized blaster, taking care to make as little noise –

"Come back to me."

Jag's words froze her in place. Her heart raced laps in her chest as she glanced over her shoulder. But Jag was still asleep. Her shoulders dropped from their place around her ears and her pulse eased.

He had rolled, ending uncovered. His arm stretched along the floor, not quite able to reach the pillow he had flung. His body craved for her touch, but it was nothing more than a reaction to a dream. At least that was what she was going to keep telling herself.

After shoving the blaster in the back of her pants, Jaina retrieved the last of her things. Before leaving, her eyes were drawn to Jag's sleeping form yet again, and a sickening dread rose like bile from her gut. She might have stood there and stared mutely at him until the end of time if a sharp pain had not shot up her arm. Looking down, she realized she had begun to scratch her skin. She had willingly fought beside the Killiks like brethren, but now she wanted to curse them in this moment for the affliction her body suffered.

Time was running out.

And yet, despite it all, she couldn't bring herself to leave. Silently she crossed to where Jag lay. She bent down and pulled the blanket back across his body. Then she nudged the pillow back towards his grasp. A smile formed instantly on his lips, just a small curl of his mouth, as he tugged the pillow into his embrace. But the smile was fleeting, replaced by a puzzled furrow in his brow. To Jaina's dismay two green orbs appeared under blinking lids.

"Jaina?"

Forcing a smile, she brushed the back of her hand along his cheek. Adding a mild Force inflection, she whispered, "I'm here. Now go back to sleep."

He nodded, and his eyes obeyed the impression she had sent through her touch, the impression those eyes were very heavy. Before they were completely shut, Jaina backed away. Her fingers curled reflexively into a fist, nearing her mouth.

Suddenly Jag's eyes flew wide open, and Jaina flinched. He rose to sitting before Jaina could slam her shaking hands behind her back.

"What…" His question trailed off. He studied her, obviously reconsidering. "Where are you going?"

If she had learned nothing else from her mother's years as a politician, Jaina had learned to smile even when a dagger was slipping between your ribs. So she did. "I thought you might be hungry."

She couldn't explain it to him. She couldn't even explain it to herself.

His scarred eyebrow arched. "You're leaving."

Somehow, somewhere, Jag had developed an amazing sixth sense, which made it impossible to get anything past him. That ability had drawn Jaina to him all those years ago. Now she rued the fact. She opened her mouth and found the intended lie impossible to form. So she tipped her head once in admission.

"Even after last night?" His voice shook, not with fear but with barely bridled anger.

"Last night was…" Perfect. Bliss. A dream come true. What could she say? She looked everywhere but into his green eyes. She could drown in his green eyes and forget who she was supposed to be. Finally she spotted the remains of her old lightsaber's hilt. Its metallic surface reflected the bright rays of the morning sun. Jaina remembered. "I am the Sword."

"The Sword of the Jedi?" Jag followed her stare and saw the hilt lying just beyond the edge of the shadows. He walked over to it, and picked it up. "That's what this is all about?"

Luckily he wasn't looking when she caught herself scratching the skin on her arm again. Balling her fists, she strode to him. "Jag, we've already proven we can do more harm than good to each other. I love you too much to be your destruction. I couldn't bear that, not on top of what else lies ahead for me."

He walked into the dark recess, where the morning light had yet not passed. "The Force. It's always about the Force."

"I am a Jedi."

"You're so much more," he said to the vastness of space, then turned to face her.

Jaina waited with bated breath. The struggle waged within him blazed in his eyes. At first she feared he might say more, but then his eyes closed. A couple hammering heartbeats later they opened. Green was nearly obsidian.

"When?" was all he asked.

Jaina could no longer control her shaking hands, so she wrapped her arms across her chest, tucking her fists beneath her elbows. "I think today would be best."

He nodded a reluctant acceptance. "All right."

The palm of his hand brushed her cheek; his fingers tracked into her hair. He said nothing, simply leaning in to place his lips lightly on hers. The kiss lasted no more than a breath before he pulled back. He lowered his gaze and said softly, "Be safe."

There was more… but he swallowed it.

Jaina could take no more. Her body was on the verge of vibrating apart. Her heart was splitting in two. Spinning, she gulped back a sob and fled. Dropping into the shaft, she didn't even bother with the ladder. During the fall she yanked the blaster free from her pants. Bending her knees, she absorbed the hard landing and leveled the weapon at the control panel –

The door whisked open. Jaina would have gasped in surprise, except a meter tall droid beat her to it. The robot emitted a sharp metallic warning at the sight of the blaster in her hand.

"I surrender!" it added in Basic.

"Stop that!" Jaina bellowed as it continued screeching.

It did. "I apologize –"

"What are you doing?" Jaina tried to push out the doorway and ran into the befuddled droid instead.

"Fixing things," the droid answered matter-of-factly. It leaned forward, blocking her progress further, and indicated the new locking mechanism. "Somehow the security bolt melted."

"Imagine that." Jaina danced in place, seeking a way past. The reason for the lock's failure was just another harsh reminder of what she was leaving behind. Cornered and impatient, Jaina extended her hand. The blast of Force energy slammed the droid into the corridor.

Naturally it started the dreadful screeching all over again.

Jaina muttered an apology as she shot past, but an instant later the droid and its woeful predicament were forgotten amid her misery. She walked as fast as her wounded heart would let her, her gait more of a stumbling wander. Then she heard the door behind her, the one she had just left, whisk open. Her shoulders instantly drew tall, more from the sucking in of her breath than feigned pride.

Would he?

Jaina batted away a lone tear. He hadn't followed her back on the _Rising Storm_. It was fool's folly to expect any different now. Still she wondered, and maybe a small part of her hoped. But as her steps took her farther away, Jaina took the silence as confirmation of the Force's will. Jag, for all his conviction, would let her walk out his life again. And she could attribute that to the fact he was no fool. His calculating mind knew better than his heart this was the right thing – for both of them.

Turning the corner, Jaina knew the course that was laid out before her. No matter how her heart yearned for respite, this chosen path was her destiny. And when Jaina set out to do something…

"Jaina!"

The sharp retort of the voice giving chase caused her to start, but her feet never faltered in their flight.

"Knight Solo, I command you to return to the hearing at once!"

Jaina took orders from a specific few, and certainly not from a two-cred tribunal inquisitor on some remote judicial station. She barreled forward, skirting between her larger compatriots. "Do you two mind moving it along?"

The Barabel sissed his annoyance. "Does not seem as if this one caused Inquizitor Gyad to become a shenbit by leaving the witnez chair."

As if to prove emphasize his point, Athadar Gyad began spewing a string of broken directives she intended to cite Jaina for violating. Undaunted, Jaina spun to address Tesar. "This one will be even more of a shenbit if we don't get out of here. I know you can feel it too. Somebody needs our help. Whatever this feeling we have, it's bigger than all of this."

Tesar's tongue flicked out. "Yesss. I feel it too."

Lowbacca brayed his agreement just as the inquisitor caught up to them. Athadar attempted a new tactic.

"Knights Sebatyne and Lowbacca, I order you to escort Knight Solo back to the tribunal hall – "

"_Brrrrowwwrr!_" Lowie's bellowing retort echoed off the walls. The Wookiee towered over the poor inquisitor, looking for all intents and purposes like he was going to rip her from limb to limb.

The bland woman's skin turned gray, and she tripped over her own feet as she backed away. The three Jedi shared a silent grin of success, then turned to resume their trek. The sensation drawing them toward their journey felt no less urgent, but in some sense satisfied. In that way, Jaina knew she had done the right thing.

As they entered the _Maxsec Eight_'s hangar bay, no one made a move to stop the trio. In fact, the entire landing field radiated nervous anticipation as technicians shuffled equipment and relocated transports in an attempt to open more landing room. With Force-assisted leaps they landed in their new StealthX fighters' cockpits and were running systems checks at a pace worthy of impending battle.

Jaina keyed her comm to the station's flight control. "Jedi Flight requesting permission to depart."

"_Hold for incoming traffic, Jedi Flight._"

Apparently the flight control officer didn't realize her request was only a formality. She feathered the foot controls, guiding her fighter up on its repulsors. "Negative, Control. Jedi Flight has received an urgent summons. We take priority –"

"_We are currently operating under landing protocol Aladare Mythos, Jedi Flight. Please stand down._"

Aladare Mythos. Jaina actually faltered on those words, even as Lowie's and Tesar's StealthX's hovered closer to the magbarrier. Aladare Mythos was a rarely used diplomatic protocol. Odder yet, why had the control officer even revealed the protocol to her. Maybe they should wait? As Jedi, it was their priority to uphold the fragile bonds of peace being sown among the shredded remains of the Alliance. Perhaps this diplomatic envoy required Jedi assistance, as well?

Aladare Mythos. Why did that ring so familiar?

She wanted to puzzle the reason, but the urgent beckoning was unrelenting in its persistence in her thoughts. The more she pondered beyond its simplistic need, the more it demanded to be heard. In their Jedi bond, Tesar and Lowie wondered why she hesitated when there was such an unyielding call for their attention.

With a sharp exhalation, Jaina muttered quietly into her cockpit. "Sorry, Control, but you've been overruled."

*****


	15. Aladare Mythos

_**Aladare Mythos**_

A disparate collection of modules pieced together in the Reconstruction Authority's attempt to bring peace and stability back to the war-torn Galactic Alliance, the _Maxsec Eight_ facility looked as haphazard and fragile as the effort it served. That appearance only exacerbated Jag's unease, his entire body a bundle of raw nerves pulsing in anxious anticipation. Not that he had felt any different since the moment he had shirked his command and his duties to begin this quest. What he had figured to be a short excursion – who would have thought it could take so long to find a Jedi celebrity? – had turned into a multi-week odyssey, culminating in his arrival at this place.

The fact that his trek was about to end – and the possible ramifications of the unforeseeable outcome – made Jag's gut somersault worse than a clawcraft spiral. At least in those he could wrest control with some fortuitous footwork and yoke manipulation. When it came to meeting Jaina head on… With her, he just never knew. Predicting Jaina was like forecasting the Csillan winter storms. Impossible.

She might fall into his arms and weeks away from the fleet wouldn't matter. He'd leave it all behind in a heartbeat for the serenity that marked those shared moments of bliss with Jaina. Or she might just as easily smack him, insult him for good measure, and storm out of his life one final time. He'd be loveless and jobless, not to mention –

He exhaled with a shudder. He refused to think that way, not yet. Later. After Jaina. He had to concentrate on all the things he wanted to say, needed to say. He had to find a way to break past the miscommunications of their last minutes together. He had spent the last day in hyperspace putting all those thoughts and words to memory. This time, finally, he had found her.

At Prynian Two he had learned that Jaina and two other Jedi, Lowbacca and Tesar Sebatyne, had captured the infamous spacelane pirate, Redstar. It marked a defining moment in her Jedi career and was all the talk on the public holonews channels. He hadn't even needed to bribe, cajole, or intimidate the information out of some poor native – the news broadcasts had been so helpful they even had given the time, location, and expected schedule for Redstar's hearing. Using some of his diplomatic contacts, Jag had arranged landing privileges at _Maxsec Eight_, and even had laid the groundwork to ensure Jaina didn't leave before he arrived.

Reaching his approach vector, he opened a comm channel. "_Maxsec Eight_ Control, Aladare One requesting permission to land."

"Aladare One, this is Control. You have permission to land. Proceed to Hangar Two-Bantha."

Jag confirmed the instructions, checked the hangar designations on the station specs, and nudged his clawcraft in the right direction. The landing and powerdown sequences he left to the pilot's part of his brain. He didn't need to bother to think about it. Instead his thoughts were honed solely on what he would say and do next. His heart pounded and his breath quickened. He was about to see Jaina again. He hoped he didn't lose all control over his tongue at the sight of her.

Climbing down from his clawcraft, Jag scanned the hangar. His berth was set apart from the rest of the docked vessels. In his initial appraisal he didn't see anything resembling Jaina's personal fighter. Quickly he reminded himself that there would be any number of other hangars on a station of this size –

"Ambassador, it is our pleasure to welcome you to _Maxsec Eight_."

Jag paused halfway down the ladder to glance over his shoulder. A short, balding man stood at the ladder's base, staring up at him. Jag tipped his head in acknowledgement, then continued his descent. Only when he was on solid ground did he choose to answer.

"Thank you…" Jag checked the man's attire for any telltale insignia but found them lacking.

"Regent." The man extended his hand. "Regent Nixum Brand."

Jag shook it. "Regent."

"I hope everything is to your liking, Ambassador Fel."

It seemed he was still recognizable in Alliance space after all. "Please, Commander will be sufficient. My term as Chiss ambassador ended nearly a year ago."

"Yes, yes, of course." Nixum indicated for Jag to follow. "Shall we go somewhere more private, Commander, so we can discuss the urgency of your mission?" The man winked.

Jag stood his ground. "What I need is to speak to the Jedi contingent. As soon as possible."

Nixum hesitated. Jag felt a sickening jolt right before –

"I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"What do you mean? Didn't your people pass along the protocol?"

"We did."

"And she didn't stay?" How could this be? How could she not remember?

"She?"

"Jay – Knight Solo."

"Well, you see, we were unable to interrupt the proceedings, so I had intended to meet the Jedi at the close of the day. Apparently your Knight Solo left the hearing quite unexpectedly, much to the consternation of the inquisitor, I might add. The Jedi were summoned away on a mission of some substantial import, or at least that is the information they provided to our flight control as they rushed from the station…"

Flatspin. Jag should have known. His gut rarely failed him. Now he stood frozen, reaching for anything with purchase as his life ripped wildly around him. Breath was impossible, sucked out of him by this sickening spiral. The world blazed past him in a cacophony of swirling colors and sound. He prayed for the eventual crash to come quickly and put him out of his misery. Yet he knew all along it would never become a reality. He would simply have to suffer in this hell.

Or maybe he didn't. Like any expert pilot, his survival instincts kicked in. Struggling to regain equilibrium, he stumbled across the floor. He found a sense of up and down when he descended the ladder to the exit. Not surprisingly, she had managed to open the door. With a swipe of his hand he triggered the control panel and it whisked open.

He drew in a sharp breath before venturing forth. His heart was hammering like a Wookiee war drum, but Jag was light-headed as he stepped into the corridor. His eyes found Jaina without even trying. She walked straight-backed, shoulders raised and squared. Not a millimeter of doubt in her step. He prayed for one break in her countenance, one sign. One opening.

Without it, he could only make everything worse than it already was. If he pushed too hard, she would cut him out entirely. This way, parting with mutual respect, if she were ever to need him she might call. By the time Jaina rounded the corner in the distance, Jag had seen not even a single flinch of weakness in her gait.

And who was he, after all, to question the Force?

"Oh dear," an electronic voice said.

Jag looked left, then right, before finally choosing down. He spotted the outpost repair droid trying to right itself. With a resigned sign, Jag strode over to it. In an awkward series of heaves and tugs, he managed to drag the droid to its feet.

"Are you all right, Efnine?"

"Oh my. Checking circuits." The photoreceptors dimmed momentarily before returning to their bright glow. "It appears so, Master Jagged. Luckily my run-in with the mistress did not cause anything beyond superficial damage."

"Lucky, indeed." Jag patted the droid on the back. He gladly would have traded the concave dent in Efnine's cylindrical head for the ravages inflicted upon his heart.

Without another word Jag wandered off, leaving the droid to its self-inspection and list of continuous duties to keep the outpost in working order.

He meandered aimlessly for some time, not sure where to go next, trying to avoid where she might have ended up. Eventually he found himself in the hall outside the kitchen. Although the hollow ache in his core was mostly the result of the morning's disastrous turn, Jag couldn't deny the small part attributable to having not eaten in over twelve hours. Tentatively he peeked inside, hoping to find the kitchen empty.

No such luck.

His mother's merry blue-eyed gaze fixed instantly to his. "Jag, how nice to see you this _morning_."

The time was well past morning, at least as morning was defined in the Fel household. Jag suddenly had no appetite, but retreat was impossible. He stepped bravely into the expansive room. "Mother." He cleared his throat and avoided eye contact. "Just wanted to get a snack."

"I thought you might be hungrier than that," she noted as he snatched a juri fruit in passing.

He paused, his back to her. Jag knew he had to face his mother or risk piquing her interest too much. Squaring his shoulders, he reminded himself that he was the son of a great actress. He mustered all had learned; he would need it to fool her.

Somehow he smiled. His mother eyed him, her expression one of anticipation and hope. She had wanted last night to be his salvation almost as much as he had. "Maybe a little, but no time at present." He winked. "Besides, I think I could survive on last night alone."

Syal's mouth began to curl up in a smile, and Jag decided he had said enough. He bit into the fruit, tasteless as it was in that moment, then held it up in mock salute. Hopefully the chewing covered the determined set to his mouth before he completed his turn back toward the door.

"Never in the thirty-one years since you came into this galaxy, Jagged, had I ever considered that you would take such an interest in my profession."

Jag froze. His mother's words hung between disappointment and mirth. Or was it sarcasm? He wasn't sure. All he knew was he had done something horribly wrong. With a heavy heart he turned back to her. Jag didn't try to play a part this time; he really was the foolish son caught in some fragmented charade. And genuinely ashamed for it.

Syal sighed, then quietly asked, "What happened?"

The words slipped out. Everything Jag thought he couldn't bear to share spilled forth, from the wondrous forgiveness to the powerful healing bliss and finally awakening to shattered dreams. As he released the truth, Jag felt his soul deflating one word at a time. At some point Syal wrapped him in a comforting embrace and Jag remembered the security and comfort of his childhood. He clutched her, fearing her steadfast presence might be the only thing keeping him from falling into the pit of despair.

"It will be all right, my son," she whispered, guiding him toward the table.

Jag wanted to believe her, and waited expectantly for more reassurance. She took a seat across from him.

Syal's soft hands wrapped around his, and she pondered her words carefully for several heartbeats. "I never took you for a quitter."

Jag sat up as if slapped across the face. "Wh-what?"

"I never thought you would just give up on something." She shook her head. "Maybe I don't know you like I thought I did."

"I'm not a –"

"Don't tell me a lie, Jagged Fel," she shot back, her eyes blazing. "Maybe once, a long time ago, you weren't, but now… I don't know. The war has changed you."

Jag drew his hands away, crossing his arms over his chest. "I've tried. I have, with all my heart. But how can I fight destiny and prophecies?"

"This from the young man who braved an entire invading species and the wrath of his father to stay in the Known Regions to fight at the side of the woman he loved?"

"Things were different then. _I_ was different then."

"True. You didn't give up back then."

He sprang to his feet. "I'm not the one who gave up! Jaina has chosen her path –"

"Or perhaps you merely let her stumble onto the wrong one?"

"This is not about me, Mother. It's about her duty to the Jedi. I would always be second to that. I always _have_ been second to that."

"Always?"

Jag nodded, absolutely convinced. "Yes."

"Such a delight that she decided to join us here for a vacation, then."

All the words and retorts that sprang to mind were lost to the harsh reality sinking in even as his mother leaned forward in her chair.

"Or have you already forgotten, Jagged, that Jaina handed over her lightsaber before she flew down to Tenupe to rescue you?"

His mother was right, and he knew it. Jaina had risked everything to bring him back. He blinked, trying to reconcile that truth with her actions this morning. "But she walked away… She was so sure of what she wanted."

Syal stretched across the table to take Jag's hand again. "She's a woman; she has no idea what she wants. When she walked away, that was your signal to go after her. With your acceptance, you answered the question she was too afraid to ask."

"I did go after her last time."

"You obviously didn't catch her."

Jag's eyes slammed shut, remembering that fateful day on _Maxsec Eight_. "Aladare Mythos."

"Aladare Mythos?" His mother cocked her head curiously. "What does one of my holodramas have to do with this?"

"Your unfinished holodrama," he reminded her.

Syal stared blankly, her mind recalling another time and place. "Yes, I left in the middle of production when your father sent word I was no longer safe." She paused. "Aladare Mythos is the Corellian fable of star-crossed lovers who defy the gods. Fayti is the daughter of the great leader of the gods, and when Aladare dared to steal a kiss her father cast him to the lowest level of the Hells."

"And Aladare braved the perilous climb out just to see Fayti again." Jag inhaled sharply. "Back in my time as ambassador, the Alliance was using the names of galactic legends to identify various protocols and procedures for visiting diplomats. As a Jedi, Jaina had access to the protocols. She also knew Aladare Mythos was the last holodrama you ever made, because I told her. One year after our breakup, I left the Fifth Fleet to search for Jaina, to make one last bid for reconciliation. When I finally found her I left that protocol as a message. But she didn't wait."

Syal squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry you missed her, but unlike Aladare you didn't make it to the top. Did you?"

His mother seemed to want to beat him down at every twist. Jag shook his head in frustration.

When he tried to pull away, Syal held him tight. "I know this is the last thing you want to hear right now, but you need to hear it for your own sake. Jaina may be the hero of the Alliance and a powerful warrior, but when it comes to her heart she is as fragile as a Corellian rose. Simply knowing her family history and how she was drawn to you during the war, I could have guessed as much. But having met her, I know for certain. She wants to love fiercely, but most of the things she has ever loved are gone. She is constantly in the spotlight. Admired and criticized for all to see. For all those reasons, Jaina feels unworthy, when all she really wants is simply to be normal. To have what everyone else wants – a quiet life, a family, a soulmate."

This time Jag squeezed his mother's hand. "It sounds as if you're speaking from experience."

"Perhaps a little."

"But you had a man in your life strong enough and determined enough to show you otherwise, to prove to you that you were worthy of being loved." It was all beginning to make sense. No wonder his mother was so disappointed in him. After all the expectations she had of him, he had failed to measure up in any way, shape, or form compared to his father.

His mother cupped his cheek in a palm, but now she smiled with the pride of a mother whose son could do no wrong. "You are no less of a man."

*****

TKL/dl


	16. Hero's Fall

_**Hero's Fall **_

Jaina punched the code into the _Falcon_'s medical locker for the _third_ time and waited. Sort of. Her fingers drummed on the counter. Her knee wagged impatiently. Finally the locking mechanism finished its evaluation of the code and beeped a shrill reply.

_Verification denied._

"Are you kriffing kidding me?!"

Just to be sure, Jaina wiggled the latch. Then jerked it a time or two. Then pulled with all her might. Bellowing in frustration, she drew Jag's blaster – still safely tucked into the back of her pants – and fired. The first shot simply scorched the touchpad. The second and third shots melted right through the locker's metal. With her free hand Jaina reached for the damaged door, yanking it open.

Her hand sprang away of its own accord, and she yowled as a fiery sensation shot from her fingertips up her arm. "Oh, _frag_ it all!"

Storming around the room, Jaina shook her hand vigorously and attempted a Jedi pain-venting technique. The throbbing in her hand indicated she was failing miserably. No amount of Jedi skills would stop the ache, at least not until she dampened the ravages of her withdrawal. This time using the blaster's handle, she managed to pry open the locker. Her trembling fingers grasped a handful of hyposyringes full of the antidote. By the time she had them out of the locker, though, every one had slipped from Jaina's failing grip.

She was fumbling around the floor in an effort to capture one of the elusive syringes when a male voice called down the _Falcon_'s empty corridor.

"Jaina? Everything all right back here?"

Cem. Not the last person she hoped to see in this situation, but not exactly preferable, either. Complete and utter privacy in her hour of despair would have been ideal.

"Jaina?" And there he was, standing over her as she managed to drop yet another hypo.

"Rodder," she said with a desperate sigh, flopping onto her backside.

Silently he knelt down and scooped up the scattered collection in his large palm. He offered one to her.

"Maybe you'd better." She rolled up her sleeve.

"You sure? Last time you got a bit feisty –"

Her glare cut him off. "I'm sure."

"I could go get Jag –"

"I _said_ I'm sure."

He tipped his head, then proceeded to inject one dose of the withdrawal medicine into her upper arm. Shutting her eyes, Jaina wanted to hope this would make her feel better. But it didn't. She still felt…hollow. And the gnawing ache in the charred fingers of her left hand wasn't going anywhere.

"Zesu, Theana and Fayti! What happened to your hand?"

"It's nothing." Jaina shoved her hand under crossed arms and looked everywhere but into Cem's blue-eyed stare. Her gaze fell upon Jag's blaster where it lay on the floor. "Could you return that to your brother?"

Cem followed her line of sight. "Of course, but why don't you – Oh. _Oh_."

Without using her hands, Jaina struggled to her feet. Cem rose with her, balancing her by the elbow. She turned her back to him, rifling through the medical supplies in search of some bactasalve. A hand on her shoulder brought her diversion to a grinding halt.

"Are you leaving?"

Staring at her hands, she muttered, "Yes."

Cem tugged her shoulder, turning her around. Then he stretched one arm past her to take the bactasalve from the medical supplies. "Just like that. You're gone?"

"It's probably best for everyone if I –"

"Surprised you didn't just blast right on out of here, then. Spare us all." Carefully he pulled her burnt hand out between them.

"I haven't run the systems checks yet. That would be foolish."

"Didn't seem to stop you last time you wanted off this rock."

"Yeah, well – Yeow!" Jaina withdrew her hand when his ministrations with the salve became rough, doing more harm than good. She curled her fingers reflexively. "I was in a different state of mind then. Out of sorts."

"If you say so."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Cem snatched her injured hand by the wrist, exposing the reddened fingers. "Out of sorts then. As opposed to now, when you're obviously thinking clearly."

"Your bedside manner leaves something to be desired." She tried to break his grip.

He resisted. "What? You expect sympathy?"

Jaina opened her mouth to answer, then reconsidered. This was Jag's brother. She could barely stomach what she was doing to Jag. How could she expect a member of his family to feel anything but contempt for the woman ripping his heart in two?

"I thought not." Cem flung her wrist away. "Besides, it's not in the Fel handbook to condone stupidity."

She snatched his arm to stop him from leaving. "Stupidity? Now that's unfair."

His icy eyes bored down, unimpressed. "Oh, really. Enlighten me."

"You see…it…I can't expect you to understand."

"Try me. Because as far as I can tell, I'm not the foolish one here."

"This is best for everyone, especially Jag."

Cem patted her on the shoulder. "_I_ see. Best for everyone. This way you're happy and he's happy. Makes perfect sense."

Swatting away his hand, Jaina stalked across the room. "You can't begin to comprehend what I have been called upon to do."

"You mean as a Jedi."

She spun back. "Yes."

"Danger?"

She nodded.

"Risking life and limb for the greater good?"

She nodded again.

"Sacrifice?"

Again.

He threw his hands up. "Oh, yes. How could I ever relate?"

"Don't mock me, Cem."

"No, don't you mock me, Jaina." His nostrils flared. "Jedi don't have a monopoly on personal sacrifice."

"That's not what I'm saying." She regretted minimizing his personal history, but this was just so much bigger. "It's not just about being a Jedi. It's what the Force has in store from me. My destiny."

"Is that what this is about? Some idiotic prophecy of your uncle's?"

"It's not idiotic. It's who I am."

"Who you are is Jaina Solo."

"That's right. Jaina Solo, granddaughter of Anakin Skywalker, better known as Darth Vader, and knighted the Sword of the Jedi by Luke Skywalker, one of the greatest Jedi who ever lived."

Cem smacked a palm to his forehead. "Oh, of course. I forgot. The Skywalker line. Without whom the galaxy would –."

"Don't," Jaina snarled, flapping a finger, "belittle my family. We've sacrificed more than –"

"Don't belittle mine!" He strode the short distance across the room, seemingly about to pick her up and toss her into a wall. "Your arrogance is nothing but delusions of grandeur. Your sacrifice isn't so much more than anyone else's. Life as we know it won't cease if you didn't do your Jedi thing. There will always be good and evil, and there will always be heroes and villains."

"That's not –"

"I'm not finished!" He ensured her silence with a deadly serious glare. "And that's the easy part. The fighting. Resisting. Standing up. The hard part, that's another story. The hard part is living day by day, loving, raising kids, staying married after twenty years with the same person."

Jaina sagged. "Jag deserves that."

"Of course he does. He also deserves a chance to pick how he goes about doing it. And with whom."

Shaking her head, Jaina blinked back a tear. "There is no happiness in my future…"

"How do you know that Jag wouldn't trade twenty years of a normal family life for the pleasure of fighting to the death at your side?"

"Because…that wouldn't be fair to him."

"Wrong!" He said it with all the exaggerated enthusiasm of a Holonet game show host. "What's not fair to Jag is denying him the choice."

Suddenly Jaina's world was spinning. Up had become down. Right was abruptly wrong. Her breath shuddered in and out. "I need to sit."

"Get her a chair, dear." Two soft hands guided Jaina and eased her to sitting. "Just breathe for a moment."

She nodded mutely. This was all so…unreal. This person wanted to offer comfort, yet Jaina needed to be mad at her. How could her mother have done this? How could her mother be the one who had shot Jag from the sky?

She inhaled one long slow breath. "Are you sure they haven't found him?"

Another voice, a male voice, responded. "Formbi wasn't very forthcoming. Sounds like the Chiss knew the vicinity of Jag's crash, but haven't been able to locate him."

Jaina glanced over to meet her father's eyes. Even since the last time she'd seen him, he seemed older. More tired. Worried. Han Solo, aged and battered, broken-hearted for his daughter's loss. She nearly looked away, but then she would have to look at her mother. She wasn't ready for that, not yet.

"Don't worry, kiddo." Her father smoothed away a wayward bang. "The Chiss will find him."

"Besides," added a new voice, "Mom's not that good of a shot."

The room's attention shot toward the door, where Jacen filled the frame with his towering presence. The subtle twist of his mouth suggested he took morbid pleasure in the room's misery, but it vanished so quickly Jaina wasn't sure it had actually been there.

"Jacen." Leia walked over to embrace her son.

From Jaina's side, Han muttered a less enthusiastic welcome. While Leia avoided her discomfort around Jaina by striking up a conversation with Jacen, Han turned his back on the pair. Exhaling with a pained sigh, he said, "I know this is hard, but Jag is one heckuva a pilot. If anyone…"

Jaina shut her eyes, reaching into the Force. "He made it, Dad. I know it." She opened them again and met her father's pensive gaze. "I have to find him."

Han's lips curled into his familiar half-grin. "I know." He patted her on the leg, then rose. "I'll make the arrangements."

"Arrangements for what?" Jacen asked from behind him.

"Your sister here wants out of this bug-infested system." Han began to cross the room. "Can't say I blame her."

"She can't go yet," Jacen moved toward the door.

Han stopped face to face with his son, staring into his eyes without so much as a blink. "And why not?"

"Because," said a familiar voice, "I need to talk to her."

This time the new arrival was none other than Luke. Jaina had known some sort of reckoning would come. Why did it have to be now? Her back straightened, but she kept her face expressionless as Luke, then Mara, strode into the room. They marched over to her bunk like a ruling monarch and his loyal servant, not at all the picture of husband and wife. Luke halted face to face with Jaina, lording over her. Mara ended a step behind and to his right; Jacen now stood at Luke's left.

Jaina felt guilty as charged, and she wasn't even sure yet of her offense. One thought bolstered her resolve – Jag.

"Uncle. Mara."

At first she thought she saw Luke soften. "Jaina, it's good to see you're on the mend. Cilghal says you have a long road ahead of you, however." By the time he finished, though, he had reminded Jaina exactly who he was. The health of his Jedi was Luke's business, personal or not.

Fresh on a batch of Cilghal's new serum, Jaina certainly wasn't feeling the effects of the withdrawal. She could still feel the touch of the hive mind at times, even as it dwindled and faded. "I'm sure my training at your hands has made me up to the task."

If Jaina's words touched Luke as she had intended, he gave no outward sign. Mara, on the other hand, bristled visibly. "Your uncle has always had your best interest at heart."

Jaina tipped her head respectfully. "Of course he has. He made me who I am – a Jedi."

Luke held out a hand, enough to silence Mara further. Jaina could tell her former Master wanted to say more, but Luke was obviously in charge of this audience. As for Jacen, he seemed to be enjoying the silent jockeying for the upper hand just a bit too much.

"And that's exactly what I came to talk to you about," her uncle said.

Han, who had waited silently by Jaina's side, stepped between Jaina and Luke. "Now wait a minute here. Jaina is tired and recovering. Don't you think this can wait?"

"No," was Luke's only response.

Jaina tugged on her father's sleeve. "It's all right, Dad."

Han glanced down at her, his eyes even more worried now than they had been before.

She forced a smile. "Putting this off isn't going to make it any easier."

Han gestured toward the door. "I'll wait outside."

Jaina cast her gaze across the room, to her mother. Only Leia would understand what she was going to ask. "Please don't. I am sure you have a hundred details to take care of."

Han shook his head and began to protest. Leia, though, blinked once in recognition and tipped her head in understanding. "Han?" He stopped and looked at his wife. "I do have a great deal to do, and Juun shouldn't be left alone too long with the Falcon. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Juun? But –" Then his ears rose and eyes sparkled. "Right. That crazy Sullustan will just end up doing more harm than good." He kissed Jaina quickly, but only spared Luke an arched eyebrow in farewell. "See you later, kiddo."

Not more than a couple heartbeats later the room was eerily empty. Jaina straightened her shoulders and stood so she was facing the Jedi Grand Master. She tipped forward in a show of respect.

Her uncle's composure was remarkable, but his eyes couldn't hide his disappointment. "Jaina, I am concerned about your actions over the past few months, particularly the fact that you failed to respond to my summons."

"I understand." Jaina offered no further explanation.

"Recently several Jedi have directly disobeyed the directives of the Order. I understand some of this may have been my fault, because in the past I have allowed my Jedi to follow their own purposes. I cannot, however, allow the Order to split apart because these callings come into conflict."

The next half hour consisted of Luke explaining his failings as a leader to the Order and his rationale for the new role he had chosen. Jaina listened without a word. Once or twice she might have tipped her head, as if she was paying attention, but for the most part his speech fell on deaf ears. Her mind had turned inward, scanning her memories of the Tenupe geography, recalling the topography of the region Jag had crash-landed, looking for some glimmer of hope that he had survived.

_Hold on._

A violent mental nudge pushed Jaina back to the here and now. It was from Jacen, and she broke her glassy-eyed gaze to shoot him an angry look.

"Did you hear what Luke just said?" Mara asked.

"She must still be in shock." Jacen arched an eyebrow in Jaina's direction, unfazed by her harsh reaction. Whether he was truly covering for her, she was unable to discern.

Luckily, Jedi recall was a wonderful thing. In a matter of seconds, Jaina remembered what she had only absorbed in passing. "I am to go to Dagobah."

"Yes," Luke said.

"As you wish." She turned her back to the trio and began to gather her few belongings. "Some time alone in the swamp might do me good."

There was no more to say, and for a moment Luke appeared uncomfortable in his new role, stuck between Master and uncle. Jaina seized the opportunity and offered her uncle a hug. He accepted, and briefly they were simply Luke and Jaina. By the time she backed away, the distance between them was again wider than the mere physical dimensions.

"Goodbye." Jaina threw her pack over her shoulder and made her way toward the door. After a quick and awkward nod to her aunt and brother, she slipped into the hall. Her feet traveled swiftly down to the first juncture. Instead of turning right toward the hangar, she banked left. Just to be sure –

"Hold on a minute, young lady."

Mara.

Inhaling slowly, Jaina pivoted to face her former Master.

As she approached, Mara's eyes hedged toward greenish-black like a night emeraude. She drew up before Jaina, barely contained rage bristling under her skin. "Where exactly do you think you're going?"

"To make arrangements to get to Dagobah."

"You may think you can lie to Luke, but I'm not so easily deceived."

Jaina blinked. "I don't know what –"

"In all the time I've known you, for every choice you've made you've had a reason, and you've been ready to defend those choices. Yet just now you nodded and accepted Luke's admonishing like a child accepting punishment for getting caught stealing fruit from the backyard juri tree."

"Maybe I was."

"I don't believe that. You gave up years of your life to fight this war. You never take personal sacrifice lightly."

"Fine, you win," Jaina said with a shrug. She hadn't the energy left to fight. "I'm making a stop along the way."

"You have your orders. As a member of the Jedi Order you must obey."

"Someone needs me. As a Jedi I am obligated to help them."

"The Order's needs come first."

Thoughts raced through Jaina's head. This was her aunt. A woman who once had understood better than anyone about following your heart. Her aunt the smuggler and outcast, who now chose to follow the party line. Jaina couldn't even begin to break such a suffocating grip of fractured logic. She had to save her strength for the days ahead.

"Then maybe I don't need to be part of an institution that has forgotten the very principles it serves."

Mara stepped toward Jaina, her stance even more aggressive. "What are you saying?"

Jaina didn't budge. "You're right, Aunt Mara. I have never made a choice without being ready to back it up, and at the same time being willing to accept the consequences."

"If you refuse Luke's direct order –"

"He can't order someone who isn't under his command."

Mara's chin drew back, and she blinked as if slapped. "You would give up everything, the Jedi, the Order, for this…cause?"

Jaina wondered when Mara had become this unrecognizable person. What had happened to get them to this place? Strangers at best. "The Jedi aren't the superheroes of the galaxy, Mara. You've put far too much importance on our worth if you believe that. We're just doing the best we can to hold evil at bay. I can do that with or without the backing of Luke's Order. Besides, from what I hear, I wouldn't be the first to walk away, would I?"

"You've made your choice, then."

There was nothing left to say. Mara simply held out her hand, and Jaina gave her exactly what she wanted – her lightsaber. Until that instant, it had been the symbol of everything Jaina had strived to be.

Before regret could sink its teeth into her, Jaina brushed past her aunt, straight toward the hangar this time.

There was nothing left to hide, either.


	17. Relinquish

_**Relinquish**_

Hot. Unbearably hot.

Perhaps this was the final flare-up from within. He had been expecting it at some point. Just not so soon, not this way. Baking under the onslaught of the afternoon sun's brutal rays, Jag fought to recall how it had all come to this…

_"Du'at no gunominum. Jeriz fot fot tiboe."_

Not even the sharp bite of the cruel ground pressing into his bruised and bloodied back could compare to the agony of that communication from Fleet Command. Orders had been to get the exfoliators to the intended targets at all costs. Then some faceless Chiss controller perched in the safety of a Star Destroyer had informed Jag that two Stealth-Xs stood between him and fulfilling his orders.

_"Four away! Four away!"_

Sometimes serving wasn't enough; sometimes men had to die.

Jag wondered if this was it. So little water left, even less food. Perhaps it would have been better to die in a blaze of glory as his three Chiss compatriots had. Jag had ordered Three and Four Flight to protect the natural target of choice for the Jedi. For some reason he had doubted his ability to do his duty, and they had been forced to throw their clawcraft between the exfoliator and the four Jedi torpedoes.

That had made him mad. Actually, he was still mad – but now at no one but himself. It was appropriate, really. His inability to serve with honor had resulted in the most appropriate punishment, an inglorious death. No doubt he was doomed to see Jaina again – in the fires of the lowest levels of the Corellian hells. She having abandoned her honor, he having forsaken his duty in the end.

_Down almost a whole flight, Jag had no choice to bolster their depleted ranks. He joined with the lucky survivor. Fortunately it was his second, Tath, the only other pilot with skills precise enough to eliminate a torpedo at short range. Now the pair raced for the Jedi fighters with deadly intent._

In a way, Jag hoped they would pick him as their first target. Life rarely worked the way a person wanted it to, though, and within seconds the Jedi duo sent Tath to the very fiery death his marksmanship had avoided less than a minute earlier in the race to stop the torpedoes.

Still Jag couldn't bring himself to take aim at her fighter. He pummeled volley after volley into Zekk's, a target far more palatable. Each shot releasing a long buried burst of emotion – rage, jealousy, hate.

Gazing up into the sun so determined to suck the life from him, Jag thought back to a trip he had once taken with his family. The Alexandria star was nearing the end of its billion-year life, and his parents had known it would be the event of a lifetime. In some ways it had been, but not the way they had intended. That sojourn had been the final time all their children would be together. A few weeks later Davin had died, and misery seemed to follow the Fel family at every turn after that.

What Jag remembered most was the eight of them standing along the observation deck of the _Starflare_, not a word spoken as the Alexandria uttered her last dying gasps. She was beautiful and majestic to the end; the ultimate brilliance more radiant than any moment in the billion years before.

If only he had recognized the signs.

A supernova. That is what he and Jaina had been. He knew it now, staring almost blindly into the enormous blazing star overhead. They had been hot and fiery, passionate fuel. A violent chemical reaction offering light and pure, raw power at first sight. But upon closer inspection, he might have seen the same elements of a sun, which in the end determines its own demise.

It was a planet, though, that had been the beginning of their undoing. Zonama Sekot.

_"Jag, what are you doing here?"_

"Trying to shoot you down." It was a lie. Some part deep within him simply couldn't do it. He would have killed her by default if she had stayed by Zekk's side – the explosion when the male Jedi's fighter succumbed to his barrage of cannon fire would surely engulf Jaina's Stealth-X, too. Or at least that was the plan. Now she was playing Jedi tricks on him to save her paramour's life. The idea enraged him. "But I forget – That's supposed to be a military secret. Now I have to kill you."

Trouble was, she was behind him. He needed to change that quickly. Jag broke to port, only to be met by laserfire from none other than the boyfriend. The quick succession of volleys overloaded his shields, forcing Jag back into Jaina's sights.

Days after the victory at Coruscant, Jag had pulled some strings and managed to secure a pass to Zonama Sekot. His heart had flown with unlimited anticipation at seeing Jaina again, yet dark clouds seemed always to be sitting on the edge of the horizon called the future. When Jag had asked Jaina to come home with him, he had felt as if he were standing on the edge of a precipice.

Looking up along the rocky cliffs of the ravine where he had crashed, Jag suddenly realized his fall was complete.

_Jaina never hesitated. Her deadly fire rained down without malice or remorse. Jag broke to starboard this time, but she knew him too well. She was pushing him toward the ultimate fall…_

"Jag, you shouldn't take this so personally."

What? Killing me? _He countered her with every trick he had._

"You and I were over a long time before Zekk and I met Taat."

A tear streamed down Jag's cheek. Not that he could afford any loss in hydration. Not that it mattered. Zekk had abandoned Jaina in her darkest hour on Hapes. Jag had picked up the pieces and held them together for the course of the war. Standing on Zonama Sekot, the living planet the Jedi found so fascinating, Jag somehow had known that being there for Jaina, honoring Jaina, loving her, wasn't going to be enough. He was missing the one thing she needed the most – the Force.

_"You think I care whose antennae you rub?" He gritted his teeth. "You betrayed your honor."_

At least Jag still had that. Honor was the one thing he could cling to. If treated it with respect, honor would never fail a man. To make matters worse, she didn't even understand. How had all he had done, mortgaging his name, meant so little to her that she could act dumbfounded by his accusation?

Worse than being honorless, she didn't care. So he wouldn't either. On a back channel, Jag sent detailed instructions to a nearby squadron. For some strange reason, Jaina wanted to hash out the dirty specifics of her betrayal. Well, then she would be the one ultimately betrayed. He allowed his rage to fill him, so she wouldn't see the truth of his calculated plan. He drew them closer, and let the pair believe they had driven him to a fatal error, where only his clawcraft stood between the Jedi and the exfoliators.

"Jagged, we – I – want you to know that I still love you. And I always will."

The tone of a sensor lock rang in his cockpit. Jag balanced ready on the precipice's edge – only to realize she had shoved him off long ago. He merely had been in that timeless moment when the mind dreams of flight until gravity reminds it of the impossibility.

"But if you can eject, you should do it now."

Jag released control of the yoke and kicked the rudder. His finger held down the firing mechanism. Bolts sprayed in a deadly array as the clawcraft plummeted into the clouds. Alarms blared and metal groaned under the strain. The Clawcraft Spin was considered suicide in atmosphere. White wisps raced by his cockpit so fast they were impossible to catalogue. Right and left became one. Luckily down was still very evident. Jaina, and her imminent demise at the hands of his brethren, was soon forgotten. All that mattered was to live.

He might not have had the Force, but Jag had found a way. His clawcraft had fought him every step, insisting that a dizzying rush straight to the ground was indeed the best course. But sheer will coupled with the Fel blood coursing his veins had defied the laws of physics. Not even Zekk and all his Jedi skills could have bettered that feat!

Flying had been the gift that had drawn Jaina to Jag all those years ago, and flying had taken him away from her in the end.

He should have known. After leaving Zonama Sekot, Jag had felt the fabric of his relationship with Jaina fraying at the seams, much like his clawcraft after that insane spin days ago. Outwardly they had appeared whole, but underneath little vibrations and odd sensations had filled every tentative step in their relationship. The pinnacle had been the events on the _Rising Storm_ – brilliant, like Alexandria's dying flares. Passionate throes reaching into the infinite. Heaving cries of ecstasy. A stunning race that expanded the heart in every direction until the eventual and unavoidable collapse.

_"I've been hearing that a lot from Solo women lately."_

"Good-bye, Jag."

And so it had not been Jaina who would shoot him from the sky – Jaina would have finished the job if she had set her mind to it – but rather her mother. Perhaps he should have found some bitter irony in that. Jag had always been fearful of Han. Leia was not as skilled a gunner as her daughter, but she was still a cunning warrior with one of the most feared starships in the galaxy under her hands. Until her comm, his clawcraft had shown only subtle indications that something was amiss following the atmospheric tumble, but nevertheless Jag had pushed his fighter beyond its limits to dodge the first couple volleys. When she fired it reacted less than optimum, and Jag felt an eternal moment of realization.

He had been bested.

It was hot. Unbearably hot. Sizzling in the afternoon sun, Jag now remembered how it all came down to this…

He might stay alive for a few more days with careful preservation of his water. His remaining portion of a ration bar would run out by the end of the day. The elements would be his undoing without better shelter. When the sun wasn't ravaging him, the shadows chilled him to the bone. While the rumble of war had long since past, the whine of search craft was a day old as well.

For the first time, Jag wondered if it wasn't best to simply resign his fate. He had fought the good fight.

Perhaps he might see Jaina sooner than he expected. He had no idea whether she lived or died. Her mother's calculated attack might make more sense if he believed Jaina dead. He certainly could forgive Leia in her grief. Should Jaina live, though, he feared the ramifications of her learning the truth. Because even as they had entered their deadly dance, Jag had believed Jaina. She loved him and always would. Duty, honor, and some mystical power called the Force had just gotten in the way.

In his mind's eye, behind the all-consuming glare of the sun, Jag imagined her sitting in her room, her whole family there – Jacen, Luke, Mara, Han, and even Leia at an awkward distance trying to console her.

_Hold on._

Jaina's voice echoed in his head as surely as if she had been standing next to him. With a violent shake of his head he dispelled it. Nothing more than hyperthermia, madness. Jaina cry for him? An angel calling to him like the forsaken sailors of Iego? The hallucinations of hopelessness, through and through.

Fueled by inner rage at his own weakness, Jag drew himself up. His back crashed into the craggy rock when his arms failed, and he released a shuddering cry. Reaching out he pulled his blaster closer, then wrapped his arms around his chest.

Tears began to fall with the first drops of late afternoon thunderstorms. He cried for his loss, and for the dreams that had never been. In his hollowest of hours, Jag found that the only comfort he had was to shut his eyes and remember those dreams. Unbidden, a particular one erupted in his mind, the one he loved the most, the one that reminded him every time he would always love her.

Jag fell into unconsciousness amid the same vision that haunted his dreams. The ravine morphed from browns and grays of volcanic dirt to greens and blues of an unending meadow. The pounding of the rain became the thundering reverberations of a waterfall. The rock beneath him no longer hurt, and when he looked down a pair of brown eyes gazed up. They smiled at him. He grinned back, then in unison Jaina and Jag turned to watch a brown-haired girl twirl through the grass, more stunning than any Clawcraft Spin would ever be.

A deafening rumble. White-hot light.

The beauty of the view lasted for barely a second, until the masterful spin dissolved into full-power acceleration. The full array of sublight engines blistered space as the _Millennium Falcon_ blasted from the compound. Jag beat his hands upon the transparisteel walls of the observation dome, the freighter already becoming no more than a far-off speck of light.

"Oh, no," he cried before bolting for the ladder.

Jumping into the shaft, he grasped the ladder's edge just enough to break his fall. His knees took the brunt of the landing while his hand slapped the door controls. Fumbling for his comlink, Jag barreled down the corridor, but the effort was only slowing him down. He put both arms into the effort of running instead, and rounded the turn toward the hangar.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Then again, he reminded himself ruefully, nothing about his relationship with Jaina had ever gone the way it was _supposed_ to.

His mother had put him to shame, and rightfully so. Last night, Jaina had been happy in his arms. He had no doubt of that. . They had healed each other, touched each other, like no one else would ever be able. An hour of solitude back in the room he had shared the night with Jaina had confirmed it. Everything had fallen into place in his heart the same brilliant way a dejarik win nine moves out could crystallize from nowhere.

Replaying his life from start to finish, Jag knew Jaina had always been a part of it, and always would be. It was as if he had loved her before he had even met her, and that mystical connection kept drawing them back.

Yet he had watched her speed away.

"Cem!" He barged into the hangar. "Cem! I need the clawcraft!"

"What for?" his brother asked, nonchalantly dropping a tool into its place in the storage unit.

"To catch Jaina."

"Take the _Starflare_."

"I can't catch her in _that_." Jag snatched his brother by the shirt sleeve, dragging him toward the spaceyacht crammed against the far wall.

Cem jogged along amiably. "True. But the clawcraft's in the storage hold, and at this angle you can't just roll it out, either."

"I'm aware of that," Jag hissed, shoving him toward the boarding ramp. "That's why I need you."

Cem stumbled. "To?"

Jag pushed him up the incline and spoke as if addressing a small child. "Fly the _Starflare_ out of the hangar so I can unload the clawcraft."

"You know Jaina's got a heckuva lead."

"You think?" Jag gave one final heave. "And it's only getting longer while you act like an idiot."

Cem was forced to catch himself on the far wall of the access corridor. He turned slowly to face Jag. "Before I help you, one question."

"I don't have time for questions," Jag said, hustling forward.

Cem dodged him, and jogged off toward the cockpit. "Better get this thing in the air."

With no time to administer the throttling his younger brother deserved, Jag released an exaggerated exhale before sprinting to the storage hold. He was climbing into the clawcraft – his father's personal clawcraft, to be precise – when he felt the first shudders of the _Starflare_'s repulsors. He started the fighter's power-up sequence, and the hold compartment doors began to open. A moment later the spaceyacht slipped into the vacuum of space.

The clawcraft came online just as the hold doors were completely open and his escape vector clear. Jag eased forward on the yoke. Nothing happened – except for the protest of straining engines.

Jag smacked the comm to address the cockpit. "The docking clamps?"

"_About that question._"

"Cem, I don't have time for questions. Jaina is piloting the _Falcon_ – the fastest ship in the galaxy, with the possible exception of this clawcraft – and I have to catch her." Jag kicked the rudder in frustration. The attitude adjuster fired instantly; the docking clamps groaned in protest.

"_Do you really want this?_" Cem asked anyway.

"Enough to rip this clawcraft right from the floor and let you deal with the ramifications when mother finds out –"

"_Don't you mean father?_"

Jag could see that the _Starflare_ was moving at a high rate of speed. Stars whizzed by the magbarrier he so desperately wanted to breach. He began to make good on his threat and wound up the engines. "No, I meant _mother_, when she finds out you stopped me from catching the woman I love, that you prevented me from having the life I always – "

"_Say no more._"

Cem must have begun cycling the clamps at the beginning of Jag's reproach, because no sooner had he replied than the clawcraft shot forward.

A mere split-second later the clawcraft passed the magbarrier. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jag couldn't help the giddy sensation that swept through him at the utter joy of piloting such a responsive ship. The fighter spiraled, then shot around the _Starflare_.

A midlevel tone indicated an incoming transmission. Jag scanned it quickly on the heads-up display. Cem had forwarded the _Starflare_'s data on the _Falcon_. Not only had his brother managed to keep a tactical lock on the freighter, he even had plotted its probable course. The destination caused Jag's heart to skip a beat.

The Minonian Asteroid Field.

Not far from the Kyrrtol system – in fact, it was actually visible from the observation dome – the Minonian asteroids were an astronomical anomaly. Not the result of a doomed planetary body, the field had formed around an elusive cluster of gravity wells, which had drawn in stray hunks of rock and debris over the course of millions of years. Only when inside the field did the gravity shifts become apparent, and by then it was usually too late to make an escape.

In other words, it was a pilot's worst nightmare – and Jaina was heading right for it.

Jag tried to hail her on the comm, but to no avail. Cursing, he pushed the engines to full throttle, then past their specifications. He tuned out the warning alarms and concentrated on listening for the telling ping that would indicate the _Falcon_ answering his repeated hails.

As the distance between the two ships closed, Jag knew he wasn't going to get there soon enough. He watched in horror as the _Falcon_ dove between the first two asteroids. In that same instant he decided they were either both coming out or both – No. They were both coming out.

Rolling to starboard, the clawcraft entered the field in nearly the same location Jaina had. Jag tried to keep a visual lock on Jaina, but that quickly became impossible. Only a few seconds in, and the tactical board was blaring new threats with ever-increasing frequency. Instead, he used the tactical board to track the _Falcon_ and his eyes to plot the quick turns necessary to avoid each collision.

Left. Right. Flip. Flip again. Reverse thrusters.

Impact.

Jag cringed, even though the moderately sized asteroid delivered only a glancing blow. His trepidation was quickly replaced by exhilaration, though, when he realized how close he had gotten to Jaina. The trick was going to be getting into a position to signal her. With the larger spacecraft, Jaina no doubt had her hands full.

In a sudden stroke of brilliance, Jag determined exactly how to get his message across. He flicked on the weapons and took dead aim at the twirling freighter.

His trigger lock lasted merely a heartbeat before Jag crossed paths with an enormous asteroid. He swung to starboard, pivoting on his right wing to come up on the _Falcon_'s tail once more. Then the freighter vanished in a sharp dive to avoid a charging mass of space rock. Jag followed, but the jinks and rolls made maintaining a lock nearly impossible.

Growing more anxious with each passing second, Jag decided it was time for drastic measures. His finger closed on the trigger, and he took careful aim. Judging the approach vectors of the two closest asteroids, he calculated Jaina would turn to port and set his sights slightly to starboard. He tapped the trigger.

Jaina turned to starboard.

"_Ktah_!" His finger flew away from the trigger.

The _Falcon_ swept through an improbably narrow gap – but not before his shot erupted on the ventral shields. The freighter dipped, slapping into one asteroid before rebounding off the other. Jag couldn't watch the rest, though, because he too had to spiral away to avoid the asteroid pair. He swerved to port, then suddenly realized why it was a good thing Jaina hadn't. The tug of a gravity well yanked his fighter harder to port than he had planned, and for the second time the clawcraft bounced off an asteroid. Unlike the _Falcon_, which had recovered to continue the deadly dance, the clawcraft did not take the impact well.

Alarms shrieked. The cockpit blackened as power began to fail. A monstrous asteroid cruised toward him, and Jag could barely take his eyes off it as he silently pleaded with the backup systems to do their job.

The console lights flickered, then went dark. The asteroid grew larger.

Lights flickered again, and a voice crackled in the comm momentarily. Then they were gone again.

Black, except for the random reflections of a distant sun from the spinning boulder of doom.

"_Jag, port! Port!_"

Lights blinked to life, and Jag flew as the angel's voice commanded. He heaved the yoke left with all his strength. The clawcraft was slow to respond, like it was trapped in clutches of yet another gravity anomaly –

Jag's head slammed to the right. The clawcraft tumbled left. He barely recovered his breath in time to see yet another asteroid emerging to stalk him.

"_Jagged Fel! What are you doing out here?_" Perturbed was too kind a word.

"I could ask the same thing." He swept up in a painfully tight arc.

"_I'm testing out the_ Falcon –"

"In this! Are you insane?"

"_I could ask the same thing._"

Jag wheeled the clawcraft left, diving at the same time. "Jaina, you need to get – Rodder!" He had turned toward another gravity well, apparently, because he was being sucked down into the top of a gigantic rock. His controls erupted in a spray of electrical fire.

"_Let's argue about this_ after _we get you out alive._"

That idea sounded spectacular, but Jag only had time to click his comm in agreement. His efforts were consumed by operating the fire suppression systems and rerouting critical controls, all the while outmaneuvering the smaller rocks still hurtling his direction.

"_I'll take the lead, flyboy._" The _Falcon_ dropped right into his sights.

Jaina's flying was effortless, and Jag found he had little problem keeping up. Then he realized they had slipped into that magical connection, one he hadn't felt in far too long. Pilot to pilot, but so much more than that. Not just any two pilots. Not just any situation. This was the truth of who they were. Jag may not have had the Force, but he was blessed with a connection to Jaina on a level not possible for just anyone.

They emerged from the asteroid field without further incident, and none too soon. The ventral starboard thruster mechanism was leaking hydraulic fluid from the second impact. Rerouting auxiliary fluid from the port thruster had only bought him time. He wasn't going to be able to keep flying much longer. Ahead the _Falcon_'s afterburners dimmed, and the freighter slowed.

"_Connect with the docking ring. Let's see if we can fix those thrusters._" Jaina's voice was stilted and extremely controlled.

Jag considered the various degrees of her wrath, and figured this one might rank right up there with the most volcanic of them all. She had bidden him a final farewell and set out on her last test flight, only to be interrupted by the last person she probably wanted or needed to see. He had gone in to save her; she had been forced to save him. Not exactly part of her plan, and Jaina hated it when things didn't go her way.

Then again, Jag was angry, too. Why would she dare test her father's prized freighter in an asteroid field? It was a foolish risk. And for what? He couldn't even bring himself to address her over the comm for fear of saying something he might regret. Slipping the clawcraft next to the _Falcon_, Jag figured he had a few minutes at most to rein his feelings into some semblance of control. Anger would have to come later. Right now, he needed to convince Jaina to stay.

This was life with Jaina Solo – crazy, maddening love. He couldn't decide whether to hug her or throttle her. Not that it mattered what he decided. All bets were off once they got face to face. The two spacecraft connected, and Jag steeled himself for the reunion to come while he waited for the airlock to seal.

_Don't blow it._

Just like years ago when he had clambered into the _Falcon_ to meet Han and Leia along the Hydian Way, the squeeze was tight. Two hands grabbed him by the shoulders, and a strength beyond human yanked him into the freighter. Jag hit the far wall with momentum far exceeding the blast he had earned on Ylesia, landing in an unceremonious pile on the cold floor. Air left his lungs with a _whoosh!_

All he saw was two legs planted astride him, two small fists propped on feminine hips. "_That_ was for your stupid stunt."

Jag lifted his head to meet Jaina's fiery gaze. He tried to suck in a breath. "Should have taken…my chances…with the asteroids."

Suddenly Jaina dropped to sit on his legs. Her palms clasped his cheeks. Her lips crushed to his. She kissed him so fiercely it took Jag's breath away. When she finally pulled back, Jag felt more lightheaded than from the body slam.

"That was for…" She smiled her beautiful half-smile. "Still want to take your chances with the asteroids?"

Jag shook his head, stunned. He couldn't process it all. She was, had been angry, but now she was straddling him. She had kissed him. Her fingers still held his face. Were they shaking? Reaching up, he took a hand in each of his own. The trembling was real.

Crazy, maddening love.

"Jaina?"

A single tear trickled down her cheek. "I thought I was going to lose you."

Was she as scared as he?

"I didn't want to lose you," he said.

"I was fine back there."

"Only you would say something like that." Jag couldn't stop the chuckle. Then he remembered why he had been so scared, and it died in his throat. "But the gravity wells –"

She squeezed his hands. "Jedi, remember?"

It always came back to that. He started to frown, then stopped. This was something he had to move past. "That doesn't mean I won't fear for you, or stop trying to save you." He brushed away her tear. "You know that, right?"

She nodded. "Jag…"

"Yes?"

"I screwed up."

"The _Falcon_?"

She arched an eyebrow in frustration, then caught on. Slugging him the shoulder, she said, "Not the _Falcon_."

This time he smiled a little. They both had needed the tension-breaker. "I didn't think so."

"Fixing things, the _Falcon_, your clawcraft, that's what I'm good at. This, us…" She met his gaze. "Your brother pointed something out to me, actually."

That would explain why Cem hadn't been in such a big hurry. "He's pretty smart. Sometimes. Despite himself."

"What he is, is pretty annoying."

"That, too. What did he say?"

"That being the hero is the easy part, being normal –" She sighed. "That's the hard part."

Jag's heart hammered in his chest. "Normal? You mean like a family?"

"Yes. Although I'm not sure I really know how normal and family relate. I mean…I didn't grow up like you did. With a home, with brothers and sisters running around, mom at home, dad off to work."

"If you think that's normal –"

She placed a finger on his lips. "It seems normal to me. As much as I've wanted that my whole life, I've been terrified of actually obtaining it. I might mess it –"

Now it was Jag who silenced Jaina. With a kiss. For a moment she hesitated, but then her mouth yielded. Their lips moved in an easy rhythm, like highly trained dancers. No, acrobats. Or at least her tongue was an acrobat. Give and take, graceful perfection.

Breaking the kiss, they touched foreheads.

He took a second to find the right words. "I screwed up, too."

"No. No, I pushed you away."

"Because you were scared you might mess it up."

Her brow bobbed slightly against his.

"My mother, who seems so ordinary, is really an extraordinary person. Wise, too."

"I didn't mean –"

"I know." He leaned back. "What I'm trying to say is, it's possible to be both. Just this morning she informed me that for all my tactical insight, I have a nearly complete lack of understanding of the workings of the female mind."

"Oh?" Jaina canted her head.

"She told me you just didn't know what it was you really wanted. And that I had acted like I didn't want us enough." He raised a hand before Jaina's protest left her lips. "That is farthest from the truth. You pushed and I let you. I thought you knew what was best for you. But you've been wrong all this time. You and I, together. That is what is best, for both of us, and I'm going to chase you to the end of the galaxy until just being normal is easier than being a galactic hero."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

Jaina scooted farther up his lap, draping one arm around his shoulders. "But you won't have to chase me very far."

"I won't?"

"Not at all." Her other arm completed the circle around his neck. "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

Crazy. Maddening.

"Good, because chasing you into asteroid fields is dangerous."

A shadow passed over her eyes. "Being a Jedi is dangerous, Jag."

She was pushing again; this time he dug in. "I know. I also know there will be times I have to let you go, because having to worry about me too would only put you in more danger."

"Just being around me puts you in more danger."

"I'd rather spend a year at your side and die fighting there –"

"Than spend twenty years in a normal family life," she finished, pressing her torso the length of his.

"I think we've been talking to the same person." Her ribs tickled against his in a shared laugh.

"It seems that way." Jaina kissed him lightly, quickly. "This is going to be hard, really hard, but I want to try."

Love.

Jag hugged Jaina tighter. "Do or do not."

The simple Jedi mantra caused her face to pale, and Jag's gut knotted. This was going to be very hard, indeed.

Then she returned to him; her eyes brightened. "I will. But there is something I have to take care of first before this could ever work."

"Jacen."

She pursed her lips. "Yes. He will use you against me."

"He already has." Jag pulled her even closer. "But you're right. Jacen is a threat to everyone, not just us."

She sighed. "And we're back to that hero thing again."

"About that."

"Yes?"

He feathered his mouth on hers just long enough to tantalize her. "Can we put that off until later?"

Plastering their bodies together, Jaina smothered him with a ravenous kiss. "Tomorrow at the very least. I – we have a lot of catching up to do."

"I like the sound of th–"

"Hush, you."

Then Jaina made their bodies one, no part of them separate. Their mouths. Their chests. Their hips and legs. Most precious was the union of their hearts. He felt them beating together, sealed in an undying connection. One would cease to exist without the other. And Jag was all right with that. He was all right with that even if they only had it for the blink of an eye.

It was crazy. It was maddening. It was love.

*****

T'Keira Lea/darth lex


	18. Epilogue

_**Epilogue  
Forget-Me-Not**_

Standing just outside the gigantic room's threshold, Jaina pondered the enormity of her next steps. It was only two short strides, but they were a path from which there was no return. The scale of that truth weighed heavily in her soul. Tomorrow she would not be the person she was today.

Bittersweet.

The room was full and the moment was right. As in most things in life, timing was everything. With a deep inhale she put one foot forward, then drew the other up to meet it. Poised in the door's opening, she waited.

The ritual inside the crowded hall flowed with its own momentum. The participants voiced an age-old recitation as they had done many times before. She took some comfort in the familiarity, yet at the same time suffered an odd sense of disconnect. She was, without a doubt, an outsider.

The litany of words rose to its conclusion, and the air began to taste of anticipation. The occupants were close now to an understanding of why they had been convened. Then, abruptly, their leader's eyes were drawn away from the restless masses to the lone woman standing in the doorway.

Blue met brown, and the irreversible course was set.

For his part, her uncle was quick to recover. Luke acknowledged Jaina's presence with a silent tip of the head before striking forward with a grand announcement to his followers. His wife's reaction to her arrival was somewhat less guarded; Jaina felt it through the Force. Shock. Anger. Rejection.

It would have hurt, but the damage had been done to her heart at another time. Jaina was empty already. Emotions no longer mattered; she was simply the vessel, the instrument. The Sword.

Some of the weight in Luke's opening remarks was lost upon the gathered Jedi as she slipped into the hall and took a seat among her peers. Several cast accusing stares; others were more sympathetic. An occasional whisper cut through the harmonious flow of Luke's words. The disruption that brought the most distress to her uncle's audience, though, was the furtive backward glances of two of the Order's most respected members.

Jaina caught her father's eye first. One corner of his mouth curled, and he winked. Then she looked to her mother. In all the years of governing the New Republic or fighting the Yuuzhan Vong war, Leia had never looked so weary. But Leia's heart sang to the heavens at the joyous sight of her only daughter.

Content to bide her time, Leia turned forward in her seat to pay her respects to Luke's speech. Only when her hand settled on the broad shoulder beside her did her other companion bother to turn around.

Jacen.

Jaina's brother was as inscrutable as ever. His dark eyes met hers, then locked as if peering through a targeting reticule. Jaina had been in the sights of too many good shots to panic, though. Unblinking, she returned his stare. Finally he smiled, just a sliver of an upturn at the corner of his mouth. Like their father, but not quite.

Jaina smiled back.

When he turned back to face their uncle, Jacen left Jaina feeling emptier than when she had taken those fateful steps a few minutes before. It had taken nothing more than a look, but she knew the truth. Her brother felt no joy in the occasion; he was hollow, empty. Dark. Like standing in a pitch black room – she knew there were things inside, she just couldn't see them.

She shivered.

Her shoulders almost slumped, but an inner strength held them strong. Back straight, Jaina focused on the speaker and the task at hand. The journey set before her would be impossibly hard. To restore her uncle's faith, she first would have to earn back the trust of her former Master, and Mara's penetrating gaze had not left Jaina since she had arrived. Jaina put her best face forward and listened intently to Luke's speech.

There was little in the pontificating that surprised her. Luke had chosen a path for the Jedi she could no longer follow, but follow she would until she had the opportunity to shed light upon the shadows cast among her peers. To do that, she would have to confront the source, and that would be her most difficult calling as a Jedi. Only now did she truly understand how right her uncle had been at her knighting ceremony. She was the Sword and she would stand alone, without even the comfort of the one person who had never left her heart since they had shared life in one mother's womb.

Eventually Luke finished. While Jaina had allocated most of her attention to absorbing his remarks, she had devoted some of her focus to preserving the serenity required for her next step. As most Jedi filtered out of the hall, she waited patiently for the Jedi Council members to gather at the front as they always did. When the group was huddled near the dais, she rose.

Thankfully her mother had waited in her seat, too. When Han started to stand, a firm hand on his arm kept him in place. Somehow Leia knew Jaina needed to get this part over with, and move on with her life. Somehow her mother always knew what Jaina needed. Sparing only a small smile for her parents, Jaina quickly returned her attention to the expectant looks of the Council members. Their eyes glanced from Jaina to her uncle and back. Calm and collected, Luke waited at the base of the dais.

Keeping her unobtrusive cloak close around her, Jaina walked straight to him. She only broke Luke's blue-eyed stare long enough for a low, lengthy bow. When she straightened, Jaina stood silent.

A few heartbeats passed before Luke spoke. "Knight Solo."

"Master," she replied with another bow of her head.

"What brings you to our humble gathering, Jaina?"

"I believe _all_ Jedi were summoned."

Mara moved to step forward, but Luke's upheld palm stayed her. "So you see things differently now?"

"Yes. Time away from the war gave me some perspective." Jaina took a deep breath. "I would like a chance to atone, and serve the Force."

"As I recall, our differences weren't so much about the Force, but how the Jedi serve," Luke reminded her.

"That is true."

"I would not accept your return without some manner of probation. And agreement from the Council, of course." Luke's move was logical. His decisions regarding family also posed the risk of calling his leadership into question.

Jaina nodded; she had few concerns about convincing the Council of her worthiness. "I would be willing to serve my time on Dagobah, as an expression of my commitment."

"I would expect no less."

Jaina had assumed not, but little did her uncle know that Dagobah was exactly where she wanted to be. There were lessons yet to be learned, the ways of the Force left to be explored before she was ready… "As you wish, Master. I will make arrangements at once."

Luke waited for Jaina to bow, then said, "I hope your time there brings clarity to your role as a Jedi." He paused, his face washed blank. "The Force tells me that it will."

Jaina fled her audience with the Jedi Masters as swiftly as possible without seeming hurried. Her feet floated across the smooth stone, taking her toward the same doorway where she had made her grand entrance. Her parents, who had eavesdropped on the whole conversation, met her in the meeting hall's vestibule, just beyond the door.

Jaina crashed into her father's arms. Han held her so tight, it seemed like he expected a depressurization to rip her away. "Kiddo."

"D…ad," she squeezed out.

"We missed you."

"Me…too." She patted her father on the back.

"We were so worried." He still wasn't letting up.

"Uhhuh."

"You're in one piece."

"M…om –"

"Your old man isn't through hugging you quite yet."

That hadn't been Jaina's point. She gasped for air under the crushing strength of his arms, flapping her hands at Leia. But the message was lost, and no intervention came. Finally Jaina managed to wheeze, "Cahht eathe."

"Oh. Sorry." Han stepped back, an awkward grin across his face.

While Leia moved to embrace her, Jaina saw the unspoken question in his father's eyes. Her mother's hug was no less intense, and thankfully shorter. Leia brushed aside a wayward bang on Jaina's brow. "You look well."

"I am, Mom." She looked to her father. "And so is the_ Falcon_."

His whole demeanor lifted as though a huge load had been taken from his shoulders, and his smile blossomed. He dismissed her assurance with a wave of his hand. "I wasn't worried." He wrestled Jaina into yet another hug. "Besides, I'd give that old girl up for you any day."

In her heart, she knew that was true. It seemed the Solo lot to give up what they loved most. For her father's sake, Jaina was glad it hadn't been the case this time. And darker times were surely ahead for them all… "Well, you won't have to. In fact, I even made a few… improvements."

Han blanched. "Do I want to know?"

Jaina shared a conspiratorial grin with her mother. "Maybe it's best not."

He ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. "You're right. Better that way."

Leia took Jaina by the arm, and together they walked outside into the surrounding gardens. Hovering behind them, Han seemed content to follow silently. After a long minute when only their family's footsteps sounded in the air, Leia spoke.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

Memories filled with pain and pleasure rushed forth. They were so strong her mother felt them and stopped in place. Reaching over, Jaina placed a hand on Leia's arm. By the time she looked her mother in the eye, the feelings were pushed back to the depths of her soul. "I did."

Her mother stiffened, her eyes dancing back and forth. "And?"

There was so much Jaina wanted to say, and so little she could. "I don't even know where to start."

"Come on, kid," Han piped in from behind them. "Out with it."

Suddenly Jaina realized the cause of her mother's consternation. She didn't know. "He's alive."

"Who's alive?"

At the sound of Jacen's voice, the trio turned in unison. Han answered happily, "Jag, of course."

Her brother's eyebrow arched. "So that's where you've been."

She in turn looked to her father and mother. They hadn't told Jacen. That was definitely a piece of information to consider much further.

_You stand alone_, she reminded herself. "Yes, that's where I've been, Jacen." She placed all the genuine love she had ever felt for her sibling into the saying of his name.

If he noticed, he didn't show it. "So you two kissed and made up?"

Jaina stifled a snort. "Our reunion was far from amicable. It started off with a few renegade Killiks trying to kill him before we got off the planet. Then the Chiss tried to kill me once we did –"

"Is this the part I don't want to know?" Han blurted out.

"You don't want to know, and I don't really want to talk about it," Jaina replied.

Jacen wouldn't relent. "But you saved Jag?"

Jaina heaved a sigh. "Against his wishes, if you must know. For some reason Jag had the impression I was practically responsible for the entire war."

"Did he –"

"Jacen, I _really_ don't want to talk about it." With the brother she remembered that would have gone unspoken.

Leia put an arm around her. "Of course, dear. You should come back to the apartment and get some rest. We can talk more when you're ready."

Jaina turned to her mother and forced a smile. "I wish I could, but I should be making arrangements for Dagobah."

"You don't mean to go immediately?" Han demanded.

"Actually, Dad, I do."

"But you're –"

Leia held up a hand. "If Jaina feels it's best."

Her bristling nerves calmed quickly at her mother's shelter. She relaxed further still when her father took her into his arms. He hugged her tightly and whispered into her hair, "My little girl, come and gone so quickly."

Jaina wrapped her arms tightly around her father's frame; she held on for dear life. "I'll be back soon."

Leia embraced her next. "We'll be waiting."

Jaina defied the liquid pooling in her eyes. She blinked a couple times. "You know, I'd better –"

She was already backing away when she remembered her brother. Instinct guided her feet the few steps to him. Standing on her toes, she embraced him like she had so many times before. The act should have been natural, and in a way it still was. Yet it was also awkward, like dancing with a new partner in an unfamiliar style.

"I've got to be going." She wheeled before any of them could get a good look at her face. Jaina ran, refusing to look back. She didn't allow her feet to stop until she reached the depths of the Jedi academy lecture halls, and even then she hurried toward one of the secluded meditation chambers.

Once inside, Jaina fell back into the closing door. Her breath slipped out in a slow exhale as she slid to the floor. She wanted to let go, to release every bit of pent up emotion. She could feel the darkness closing in around her.

"No."

Shaking her head, Jaina scooted to the center of the small room. She crossed her legs and regulated her breathing. Her heartbeat slowed easily; weeks of intense training had pushed her body to the extremes of fitness. Careful Force control aided in the effort, and in no time she was immersed in its protective light.

Not until that point, when she felt completely secure, did Jaina allow her thoughts to wander to happier times. Her hand slid the lightsaber from her belt, and she held it up for closer inspection. Newly crafted, it was a thing of beauty. Fortunately, Mara's ire had blinded her to its presence concealed beneath her cloak. Which was good; Jaina wasn't prepared to explain its existence yet.

Taking the hilt into one hand, she unscrewed the pommel cap. It separated easily, and a small smile creased her mouth. Tipping the hilt, she allowed the hidden treasure to drop into the palm of her hand.

It was the only link to a truth she had left in the Unknown Regions. A link she coveted beyond reason. Small and unassuming, it was a perfect reflection of the life Jaina wanted and needed, a reminder of all the reasons why she must succeed. And it was hers alone.

Shutting her eyes, Jaina felt the smooth edges and the perfect symmetry of her engagement ring, and smiled.

Her eyes still closed, her spirit still immersed in peaceful solitude, Jaina screwed the pommel cap onto the hilt. She held the smooth shaft in her hands, scribing into her memory the distinct feel of the new weapon.

Not quite a weapon she reminded herself as she laid it down on the floor before her. The moment had come to mark that distinction.

For hours, probably bordering on days now, Jaina had set about the timeless journey every Jedi must make – building a lightsaber. While they were protectors of the peace, Jedi were still warriors, the last line between good and evil. And the line was drawn with a single blazing blade of energy.

The remains of her former battered weapon, once lost and now found, became the foundation for a new beginning. Using the latest Chiss materials and mixing in a bit of Solo ingenuity, Jaina constructed the framework of a lightsaber like none other. To power the blade, not one, but three crystals aligned down the core, each with a purpose. More importantly, each with a meaning.

Relacite acted as the source for the basic blade. An Adegan crystal with a purple hue, it had come from the lightsaber lost that fateful day on Granjanjin. While she couldn't afford to dwell in the past, neither could Jaina bear to forget it. She refused to turn a blind eye to life's lessons, no matter how cruel. The purple gem was a simple reminder to Jaina of the journey she had taken to this point, most importantly the person she was and intended to still be once her quest was complete. If she lost sight of that, then the evil would have surely won.

_Never forget._

For times, where high yield was required, like slicing through durasteel or deflecting maser bolts, a Corellian emeraude had been incorporated into the design. The gem required intense drains of energy to maintain the blade and was impractical in most situations, but some Chiss ingenuity on power relays had made the addition possible. The surprise factor just might come in handy at some point, and Jaina had a feeling she was going to need every trick in the book on top of good old Corellian luck to beat the odds she was about to face.

_Luck was something to be made_.

The final gemstone was priceless beyond compare, for what it was worth and where it had come. Csilla ice crystals were things of legend. Spacers told tales of clear gems that when cut a certain way could cast brilliant prisms clear across the evening sky. What made them even more fantastical was the improbability of finding them. Supposedly formed by the binding pressure of slow glacier movement, they had to be located a near impossibility in and of itself then drilled out of the glaciers' depths. The gems were so rare that few had actually seen one, fewer still had one in their possession. An ice crystal was not, however, such an impossibility for a former Galactic holostar. When Syal had offered her the blindingly clear crystal, Jaina had almost refused the gift, but then something – no, not something – the Force had made her accept.

_For the most impossible of situations._

All parts assembled into a mechanical marvel, each with an important part to play. The only thing left was to bring life to the individual elements, to make them whole. In the realm of skills for a Jedi, the task wasn't overly challenging. What it tested though was the basic understanding of the ways of the Force. Everything in union. Harmonious connection. One purpose, one existence.

In the simplicity of the moment, Jaina saw the strands of her life running through the fabric of the Force, through space and time on an inexorable course. Their final destination was obscured by the haze of uncertainty, but at every turn, she stood tall, this weapon of her design afire. One purpose, one existence. One sword.

Yet Jaina knew she was not alone. All around her, generations of Jedi knights had upheld this tradition. Their paths – gleaming as unique threads through history – coursed around her. Their voices echoed from the past.

_I saw your laser sword. Only Jedi carry that kind of weapon.  
Perhaps I killed a Jedi and took it from him.  
I don't think so. No one can kill a Jedi._

_The Jedi use their power for good._

_The Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together. _

_We're keepers of the peace, not soldiers._

_Sith Lords are our specialty._

_Many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view._

_Death is a natural part of life. Rejoice for those around you who transform into the Force. Mourn them do not. Miss them do not. Attachment leads to jealousy. The shadow of greed that is._

_I'm a Jedi. I can be better than this._

_Hmm. To a dark place this line of thought will take us. Great care we must take._

_The fear of loss is a path to the dark side._

_I can save him. I can turn him back to the good side. I have to try._

_That's your uncle talking._

_Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. I sense much fear in you._

_We must move quickly if the Jedi Order is to survive._

_Tell your people to take shelter. If you have warriors, now is the time._

_Only a Sith Lord deals in absolutes. I will do what I must._

_The dark side clouds everything. Impossible to see the future is._

_The shroud of the dark side has fallen._

_I sense a trap.  
Next move?  
Spring the trap._

_Remember: Your focus determines your reality._

_Train yourself to let go... of everything you fear to lose._

_She would do her duty._

_For my ally is the Force, and a powerful ally it is. Life creates it, makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us and binds us. Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter. You must feel the Force around you; here, between you, me, the tree, the rock, everywhere, yes._

_A Jedi must have the deepest commitment, the most serious mind._

_This is the weapon of a Jedi Knight. Not as clumsy or as random as a blaster, but an elegant weapon for a more civilized age. For over a thousand generations, the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic. Before the dark times…_

_The Force will be with you, always._

_This weapon is your life…_

Silence.

Jaina searched for the voices, wanting to learn from their wisdom, but her task was almost complete. Destiny reminded her of the perils in straying from the chosen path. With a final draw on its power, she focused the Force on the fusion beneath her hands. Energy raced toward the weapon in vibrant streams of life, each brighter than the one before, until she was blinded. For a split second white reversed to black – a silent void.

One final voice spoke from the past. "Go to Dagobah."

Then a powerful eruption of sound and energy blasted Jaina from the ether of the Force back to the hard reality of the unforgiving floor. Her body tossed like a child's doll, she landed several feet from the newly formed lightsaber. Panting, she watched it hover a few centimeters off the floor, aglow with light and life, before clattering to the floor with an uneventful _thud_.

Propping up on her elbows, Jaina sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow. "I _hate_ that part."

Exhausted and winded, she struggled over to her hands and knees and was about to stand when a soft rapping caught her attention. Jaina might have dismissed it as one of the various sounds that constantly marked a facility with an actively controlled atmosphere except for the hesitant presence she felt just beyond the threshold.

Too tired to cross the distance, Jaina croaked to the automatic controls. "Door open."

The door disappeared into the wall, and a swath of light washed across the room, illuminating the darkness. Jaina blinked at her new arrival, her vision temporarily impaired by the sudden change in lighting. She didn't need to see her guest to know who it was. The genuine motherly concern gave the identity away.

"Come in, Syal." Jaina beckoned Jag's mother into the room while at the same time trying to appear agile clambering to her feet after too many hours stuck in the cross-legged position. "I was just finish…unhh." Her legs defied graceful and Jaina ended in an undignified heap.

"Oh dear child." Syal came to Jaina's side and offered her assistance. Legs shaking and weak, Jaina wasn't too proud to accept it. Slowly the two women moved toward the lone bed tucked in the far corner of the room. Syal helped Jaina sit upon it before settling beside her. "I hope I didn't interrupt you," the older woman asked cautiously.

"No." Jaina shook her head once. "I just finished."

Syal sighed. "Good."

Jaina realized the rest of Syal's thought had been left unsaid. She had been worried, and understandably so. Even for the mother of strictly trained soldiers, the thought of a person spending days without food and water to achieve balance with a weapon might seem beyond reasoning. Jaina reached over, taking Syal's hand in her own.

"I'm fine." Her stomach growled, and both women giggled. "Just a little hungry."

Syal squeezed Jaina's hand back. "You should be. It's been four days."

"_Four days_?" Jaina felt suddenly deflated. Mastery of lightsaber required a Jedi to achieve oneness with the Force. She had suspected her recent past and impending future would make attaining that level of grace an arduous process. The amount of time it took showed the truth of those suspicions. No matter, four hours or four days, Jaina had made her peace and was ready to move on with her life. Still she felt a pang of regret. It meant four less days spent with Jag, four less days getting to know his family –

"Oh, I forgot!" Jaina jumped to her feet, facing Syal. "The celebration dinner."

"You shouldn't worry about that." Syal rose and cupped a hand under Jaina's elbow. It was a good thing too because Jaina suddenly realized she had stood faster than her exhausted body would have liked. For a moment the world spun, and Jaina felt her vision closing down. Syal urged Jaina to sit. "I think it's best you rest."

"No." Jaina inhaled sharply, drawing on the Force to bolster her flagging reserves. "Tonight is the only night left."

"Maybe you should wait a day or two –"

"No. I must go tomorrow as planned."

"But –" Syal's protest ended before it started. The aging beauty chewed her lip for a few seconds, then forced a smile so genuine Jaina wanted to believe it was real. "Then a celebration dinner we shall have."

The upturn to the corner of Jaina's mouth was formed from the sincerest feeling of appreciation. "Thanks." She paused, exhaustion and remorse flagging her strength momentarily. Jaina glanced around the small room which she had shared with Jag these last few weeks and suddenly needed to see him badly. That was until she remembered what four days in isolation could do to a girl. "I'd better get cleaned up and give you some time to start the preparation."

"That sounds like a good idea. You've got a few hours. How about a nice bath?" Syal ran her hand along a stray lock of hair Jaina's hair.

Jaina recoiled uncomfortably. "That bad huh? I'll need to scrub it off…"

The older woman's mouth set into a firm line and one eyebrow arched. "Not at all." She leaned forward and whispered, "You've seen the men in this family after a good spar, haven't you?"

Jaina couldn't avoid the chuckle forming on her lips. In the past weeks she had sparred more times than she could count, with all three of the Fel men. Her discomfort was quickly forgotten. "I have, and a bath would be lovely."

Syal rose first and held her hand out to help Jaina up. The only bathtub on the base could be found in the master suite, so the pair set out to gather a few necessary personal items to take with them. When Jaina started for the closet, Syal stopped her. "I've got a little something special for you to wear tonight. It's in my room."

"Oh. All right." Jaina eyed her new lightsaber, pursing her lips while she pondered its fate. She scooped up the shiny hilt, admiring the smooth, natural feel against her palm. But only for a moment before she crossed to the nightstand and reverently placed the weapon upon it.

Without a second glance, Jaina joined Syal and the two women left the bedroom, which had served as Jaina's meditation chamber for the last four days. They strolled slowly down the halls in amicable silence. Thankfully, they didn't cross paths with any of the Fel family, not even Efnine. Jaina got the impression they were all occupied with dedicated tasks, all except Jag. She felt his presence, still and patient in the Force, but decidedly void of any diversion. And she felt something else she couldn't quite put a finger on –

"Corellian roses or Alderaanian jasmine?" Syal's question jolted Jaina back to the trek as they reached the master suite.

"Hmmm?"

"Corellian roses or Alderaanian jasmine for your bath scent?"

"Oh." It was an unusual decision for sure. Not quite on the level of some of the major judgment calls Jaina had faced or would face in the future. The simplicity of the request was refreshing. "Corellian roses."

The older woman swiped her hand over the refresher door controls. "He was right."

Jaina arched an eyebrow.

"I guessed Alderaanian jasmine. It's all the rage these days. I was so sure." Syal shook her head, grinning. "My son insisted on Corellian roses…"

The door swished open and Jaina's breath caught for a moment. The room was dimly lit by the light of dozens of candles. The bath overflowed with bubbles and a small tray of refreshments, cheeses, fruits and her favorite fizz drink, sat besides the tub. And the smell wafting from the refresher…

Corellian roses.

"So delicate, yet so timeless," Syal remarked. Her expression was distant, then she blinked and the moment was gone.

Jaina looked from the Syal to the beautiful arrangement back to Syal. "You were expecting me to be done?"

"Not I," the older woman answered with a conspiratorial grin.

"Ah." Jaina wandered over to the tub, running her fingertips through the overflow of bubbles. "Your son is a keeper, isn't he?"

"I like to think so." Syal backed from the room. "I'll leave you to it then. Your outfit will be waiting for you on the bed."

Then Jaina was once more alone. After days of solitude, her newfound loneliness almost brought her to tears, but then there were the candles and the smell of roses and one lone white sword lily rest on the bathtub's edge.

Slipping from her clothes, Jaina dipped her toes into the bubbles. The water was hot, perfectly hot, and the bubbles comforting like a familiar blanket. Jaina would have melted into a blissful trance, immersed in the bathtub's comforting fold, but some part of her felt unable to let go. The odd sensation that something was lacking kept niggling at the back of mind.

Even when she knew he was everywhere around her, his hand in every detail of the moment, Jaina still missed Jag dearly. She would miss Jag much more in the months ahead, yet she had made peace with her role over the last four days.

Now she was beginning to realize the strength to move forward despite the overwhelming weight of her endeavors came from the silent assurance that existed in her heart. Times ahead were certain to be ripe with strife and misunderstanding from many. Yet Jaina had no doubt of the loving acceptance from her mother and father, who had given her the support to get this far. More remarkable still was the depths of forgiveness she found from this tight knit family hidden in the fringes of the galaxy. She had wronged their name and their son, and somehow seen the truth of her heart and her mistakes for what they were. Love was an extraordinary emotion, with limitless capacity if you let it shine in your heart.

One man had taught her that – a necessary lesson. No matter what had happened, split between two sides of a war, deadly enemies, Jag had never stopped loving Jaina. Her most important tutor in the ways of a Jedi heart had come from a Force-blind man. Jaina knew now she could love Jacen despite everything. Hate didn't factor into the equation. She had already forgiven her brother, and now nothing was left save duty. Jacen had to be stopped, but the execution would forgo malice or any other dark intention. In the end, love would triumph because even if she failed this quest Jaina would enter the Force knowing she had been loved and loved in return.

And waiting at the edge of her consciousness Jaina felt that love growing restless.

Her hair shampooed and her skin scrubbed clean, Jaina climbed from the tub. The effort took more effort than her body had reserves to handle and for a second she faltered, falling back into the water. Jaina inhaled deeply and tried once more. She toweled carefully before wrapping one around her torso and pattering across the floor. The refresher door slid open to the bedroom and Jaina was halfway through before she saw it.

Carefully draped across the bed was the dress of her dreams. Literally. She had dreamt of this dress once. The colors swirled in a reminder of vivid pink sands and the deep violets of an ocean sweeping out to meet a setting sun.

And like her dream Jaina simply found herself in this dress. It fit so well she might have thought it was made just for her, but that would have been a foolish notion. Still, Jaina wandered over to the full-length mirror and stared while she swished the skirt, admiring the play of the material.

"You look stunning."

Jaina almost jumped out of her skin. Almost. Her mother had taught her well though. She simply swallowed and met the pair of eyes staring back at her. "Jag." Her lips smiled as they spoke his name.

Jag hesitated, then walked to Jaina's side in front of the mirror. "May I?" he asked, indicating the last two clasps she had been unable to reach.

She nodded mutely, and pulled her damp hair aside. His fingers were cool against her warm skin, and she shivered. He paused after the first clasp. Ever so slowly he bent forward, his lips hovering millimeters from her neck. Soft air teased her skin, and Jaina's breath caught in her throat. Jag placed a tantalizing kiss at the crook of her neck before finishing his task.

Jaina shut her eyes, not wanting the feeling to end.

"I missed you," he whispered, his arms closing around her.

"I missed you too." She let her weight lean into Jag.

He accepted it willingly. They stood that way for some time, content in the simplicity of their bond. Jaina tried to just enjoy the moment, and not rue the fleeting reality of their shared embrace. When Jag drew in a long breath she wished for a few seconds more. He must have known, because he didn't speak immediately.

"You're ready." It wasn't a question. He somehow knew she was. Or more likely, had faith she always would be. That faith was one of the things she would count on to see her through the months ahead.

"I am." She reached out in the Force and sensed her new weapon easily, an extension of her self now. Then she let it go. For the next few hours she wasn't going to think about her destiny. She needed to simply revel in the joy of celebrating life, love, and family.

Turning to face him, she took Jag's hand. "I love the dress."

"I thought you might."

"You dreamt of it too?"

He tipped his head, averting his gaze.

"The night we made love?"

Jag swallowed, then nodded tentatively. "It was a vision I won't soon forget. Not the bad part," he added quickly before she could interrupt, "but the beginning. You were so beautiful. I wanted to see that for real. Fortunately Cem and Father just happened to be making a supply run, so I sent them to a dressmaker."

"You had this made from a memory?"

He guided her hand up over her head, and spun her around like a master dancer. "Exactly to specs."

"If you say so." She winked playfully, but she couldn't shake her own memories. "I won't ever leave you again, Jag. Not like that dream, not like Zonoma Sekot. I swear. I only want the good part of that dream –"

His finger on her lips ended the rest. "I know."

Jaina wrapped her arms around Jag – because she could – and held him tightly. She clutched him as though that horrifying nightmare was about to come true and take him away.

"Hey." Gingerly Jag extricated himself from her embrace, taking her hands in his. "You're shaking."

She nodded, and let Jag lead her to the edge of the immense bed that filled most of the room. Together they sat down on the edge.

Almost immediately he bounded back to his feet. "Of course. Your shot. I forgot in the excitement of finally seeing you."

He was practically to the door by the time Jaina said, "I don't need it."

The door opened, and Jag stepped into the threshold. "It will only take a second."

"I said –" A nudge with the Force tugged him back into the room. "– I don't need it."

"But –"

"I'm _fine_."

He refused to budge even when the door began to cycle close. "You weren't fine a few seconds ago."

"That wasn't about the shot." Jaina stood. "That was about _you_."

"Me?" Jag took a step closer. "But –" Another step. "– we're –" Another. "– all right. Aren't we?"

The sudden fear seemed to wound him to the core. She cupped her palm to his cheek. "We're better than all right. That's why I'm fine."

"But you said…" He drew in a breath. "Cilghal said –"

Jaina shifted back to the bed's edge, beckoning him to join her. She waited as his green eyes cycled through protest, hesitation, defiance, and finally back to resolve. Finally he sat by her side. Jaina inhaled and met Jag's concerned gaze.

"When I first felt the Killik's call, there was a part of me that couldn't deny them. It was the same for Jacen, Lowie, Tahiri, Zekk…" She faltered on the name, but Jag seemed immune to the mention.

He didn't even blink. Jag covered her balled fist with a hand. "Zekk is your friend and an unshakable ally. I have no reservations about that."

Dipping her eyes in acceptance, Jaina proceeded. "We hadn't dealt with Myrkr. None of us had. I guess some part of us got left behind on that forsaken rock."

"Killing and being killed does that to children."

Jaina felt a protest rising to her lips, then bit it back. He was right. They had only been children. "After the Vong war we never talked about it, not among ourselves, not with anyone else. But we did try to deal with it in our own way, in our Jedi way. We used the Force bonds to share our fears and nightmares. To find comfort."

"Without saying as much."

"Yes." She slowly intertwined her fingers with his. "The Killiks reached into that place, our unique bond, so I suppose in some way we thought they could fill that void."

"Raynar did that?"

"He did. He took the Killik's telepathic ability and magnified it to a whole new level. We never stopped to think or ask; we just did."

"But that's what you were taught to do, Jaina." He squeezed her hand, then hesitated. "Did your uncle or any of the other Masters ever think to counsel the members of the Myrkr mission about what happened?"

"No." She shook her head, then added quickly, "There was never time."

"There never is. But someone should have _made_ time," Jag said a little too forcefully.

"That's what I'm beginning to understand. There needs to be a process in place. A way to ensure it's not a matter of _if_ but _when_ each Jedi get the assistance they need to deal with the constant state of chaos and death in our missions and our lives. We've been making this up as we go along for far too long. There is always another pirate, another battle, another moment of impending galactic doom…if only someone had paid closer attention to Jacen –"

"Your brother's path is _not_ your fault!" Jaina drew back abruptly at the vehemence in Jag's words. He softened instantly. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Her shoulders sagged. "Jacen's path is his alone."

"I still don't understand how this has anything to do with your withdrawal."

"Oh. Right." Jaina had made peace with so many things over the last few days it was hard to keep track. "My point is, I have a support system. I just didn't know how to use it."

"Who is that?" he asked.

"You."

Jag looked genuinely surprised.

"You. Your family. My parents. You've been here the whole time. I just refused to look outside myself, and the Killiks were the easy way out to fill the emptiness. The changes in my physiology, the withdrawal, the symptoms – they were all a function of my refusal to allow anything into the void in my heart." She smiled. "In the last few weeks I've noticed the symptoms less and less. And I've found that the hole that's been gnawing at my soul has filled in little by little. I don't need the shots because I have something else to make me whole."

"Me?"

She slugged him. "Yes you, flyboy."

"You were trembling," he countered.

"Just being in your orbit makes me quake. Kiss me and I'll prove it."

So he did. It was a kiss to end all kisses. The room faded to black and stars erupted in bright pinpoints of light all around. Jaina and Jag, spinning amid a weightless galaxy.

He pulled away abruptly, smiling down at her. "You're right. You need more of me to cure you."

Suddenly they were crashing back onto the plane of the bed. His lips claimed her lips, sucked on an earlobe, nuzzled her neck.

"Whoa," Jaina gasped, pushing at his chest.

Jag rolled over, flopping face up on the bed. He turned to face her, grinning from ear to ear. "Maybe later?"

She winked. "_Definitely_ later, and not on your parents' bed. But first there are just a lot of things I need to say and do before tomorrow."

His jaw clenched. As an awkward silence fell between them Jag sat up, and Jaina decided she had said too much. Their impending separation hovered like an unmentionable eventuality in their relationship. Nothing she could say would make it better. Then she realized he was tugging her to standing.

"Let's go." He pivoted away, still holding her hand, and started to lead her away from the bed.

"I can't leave yet. I have to finish my hair," she said playfully, resisting his effort.

Turning back, Jag ran his fingers through her drying locks. He shook his head. "It's perfect. You're perfect."

He canted his head in the direction he had wanted to go. She couldn't deny the profound sincerity in his compliment, and Jaina lost the resolve to oppose him. They walked toward a fogged transparisteel door in the far corner of the large master suite. Jaina hadn't been through that door, but she had a pretty good idea where it led.

A wave of warm, moist air caressed her skin as they passed through the portal. Jaina took several steps into the heated room, stopping at Jag's side. Together, hand-in-hand, they admired the sight.

The three exterior walls and the roof were constructed of durasteel girders and transparisteel panels. Bright lights along the ceiling outshined the stars she knew twinkled above. The lights provided the life-giving energy necessary to fill the space from wall to wall with flora over every kind and species imaginable.

Everywhere Jaina looked there was color. Greens, blues, yellows, reds and every shade in between. This was Syal's hothouse, built in exacting detail by Jag's father in a show of boundless love.

Jaina gazed in wonder at the teeming display of exotic plant life. Jag smiled as their eyes met.

"It's incredible," she said. And it was. She left one thought unsaid. It was so Fel, so unlike what she had been accustomed to in her own family life. This room spoke of solidity and a permanent home, a concept far afield from Jaina's upbringing. She had no place to call her own, no place to stake her name. No place to nurture and pour years of love into until it resembled this breath-taking room. This hothouse hadn't been built in a month's time; it had been built over the course of a lifetime.

Jag released her hand, letting Jaina wander through the rows of plants. Sometimes she would pause to brush her palm across the leaf of a familiar plant or to sniff a luxurious bloom. Jaxon brush from Adalia. Asyr from Bothawui. Dantooine Dandelion. Honeyflower. Inisa from Cerea. Nebula orchids from Yavin 4. Snowflower. Starbloom from Belsavis. Starflower from Ithor. Roses from Corellia. Each plant marked a planet visited, a memory stored.

When she came upon the long stalks of the tall, slender Sword lilies, Jaina hesitated. They had been a special part of her relationship with Jag. Their location, in a discreet corner of the room, said they had been placed by design in a position of significance - and only recently, to judge by the fresh soil and the separation from the rest of plants.

Jaina looked to Jag.

"I wanted…" His voice caught, and in a rare moment he was unable to vocalize his thoughts. Then she recognized this was one of those things they needed to do before tomorrow.

Jag reached into his chest pocket and withdrew a small fold of linen. Jaina knew it very well. The little handkerchief had never left her side over the last few years – except for the past four days, when it had rested in Jag's care. She knew now there was no one else in the galaxy she would ever entrust with that precious memory. The notion was profound and bittersweet.

Jaina's heart began to pound as her mind spun with memories. She had lost her daughter, and with her any hope for a family. Nothing anyone had said – not Zekk or the doctors – had eased the ache in her heart or quelled the tears threatening to drown her soul. In the midst of her inconsolable sorrow, an elderly attendant had entered the sterile, cold hospital room. She had said nothing, but simply pressed the delicately crafted handkerchief into Jaina's hand. It was all Jaina had ever had to hold onto. No ceremony, no burial, no goodbye. Over time the linen had come to serve as the closest thing she had to a memorial.

"She needs to rest," Jag said, and reached out for Jaina.

Taking his hand, Jaina nodded. "A home."

He squeezed her hand, then passed her the handkerchief. While Jaina studied its tender features, Jag walked a few steps away and retrieved a silver cylinder no bigger than a lightsaber hilt. As he closed the distance back to her, she saw the intricate etchings around the tube. He depressed a hidden button and the device separated to reveal a hollow interior.

Jaina held the linen, committing it to memory beneath her trembling fingertips. Fresh tears brimmed in her eyes. How could she let go?

Then she realized she didn't have to. Her daughter, their daughter, would always be a part of her. The tiny life, even in its brevity, had helped shape the woman Jaina had become. Ultimately their grief for their daughter's death had come full circle, until Jaina and Jag were once more whole. They would go on together.

Throughout her silent reflection, Jag waited patiently. Finally she extended her palm with the handkerchief exposed. He handled it with the most gentle of touches, rolling the linen neatly before tucking it into the cylinder. A flip of his thumb sealed the linen inside. Jag curled his fingers around the shiny tube, and held onto it for the span of several heartbeats.

Jaina thought her heart would break when he finally lowered the cylinder to the small stand set into the dirt. The Sword lilies were left to stand guard around their daughter's memorial. It was a beautiful tribute.

"_Cha'na doe en ta_," Jag said softly in Cheunh, then repeated it for her. "Go in peace."

The dam holding back her emotions crumbled. Jag scooped her close, crushing Jaina to his chest. She wrapped her arms around him and allowed her tears to flow. They cried as one, years of grief crashing over them in a tidal wave. It was easier, she realized, to resist the flood of anguish together. Eventually the onslaught subsided, and they were left clutching each other in reassurance that they _had_ endured.

Jaina pulled away first, wiping the warm saltwater from her cheeks. "I miss her already."

He sighed. "I've barely wrapped my brain around the concept I had somebody to miss."

Jaina turned toward the Sword lilies, bending over to touch a white petal. "She was all I had –"

"You have me now," he said, brushing her shoulder, "and we can always have more children. Remember Doctor Tarado said…"

He swallowed the rest and removed his hand. An awkward silence hung in the air, unspoken dreams and nervous hopes dancing to the beat of their heartbeats. Just within reach. He had said _w_e, hadn't he?

Spinning to face him, Jaina caught his hand. "We need to talk."

"I didn't mean… What I'm trying to say is –"

"We've worked through a lot these past weeks, and it's been wonderful. Better than I could ever have wished." She had to make him understand; her explanation spilled forth. "When I went looking for you on Tenupe, the best I had hoped for was to find you alive and probably get a good verbal lashing for the sum of my actions. I would have taken it all, just to see you one more time."

"I said some hate-filled things –"

Her fingers stopped his lips. "It's the past, and our past was full of misunderstanding. Your fault, my fault, it doesn't matter. What matters is that we're here, now. Together. I realized when I was meditating that this was all preordained. We're _meant_ to be together. I understand now that being the Sword of the Jedi means I may fight my battles as an individual, but never alone. Luke said I would be blessed, and in many ways I have been."

Jag took her free hand so they were standing face to face, hand in hand. "Jaina, I –"

"There are things I need to say before tomorrow. Let me finish, okay?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it. His eyes betrayed his internal conflict; the last time she had asked to speak first probably weighing heavily on his mind. It had been the day he meant to propose. He had every right to refuse. "Okay."

Jaina was grateful for his acceptance. It was more than she deserved. She only prayed he'd be as understanding when she finished. She plunged ahead. "We've been planning and training, but there is one subject we've avoided."

Jag visibly inhaled.

Jaina forced herself to breathe out. She had to say this for both their sakes. "I can't return home and announce our love."

"I know."

"In fact, I'll have to act as if nothing has happened. I will go back to the Jedi, to my uncle, and beg for mercy."

"Yes, that's why you picked the Jedi gathering on Ossus in two days time for your return."

Fighting a chuckle, Jaina grinned. "That, and I had to make a deadline or risk never leaving."

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "I wouldn't kick you out. We could stay here forever."

Jaina drew away, her hands releasing his and wrapping around her waist. She gazed up into the black swath of space overhead. "No. You couldn't do that any more than I could. This is our fight – yours and mine. I'd be lying if I said I'm not terrified, but it means the galaxy to me that I have newfound allies."

"We're more than allies, Jaina." He touched her forearm.

She stepped away again, still facing him. "I know. But I can't think of you as anything more than that, if even that. I can't talk of you, talk to you. Rodder, I probably shouldn't even dream of you. It might risk everything, endanger everyone. I couldn't bear it if I brought harm to your family."

"What are you trying to say, Jaina?"

The part she really didn't want to say finally came blurting out. "You know that I'll have to return to my partnership with Zekk. There isn't any other way."

"I told you, I understand…I have faith in you."

"No, you don't understand. He can read my thoughts."

"Well, that could prove to be somewhat embarrassing." Jag forced a grin, but the rest of his face was humorless.

"That's why we're going to have to keep a strict communication lockdown. Not even secret messages. I can't comm to reassure you I'm all right or pass along hololetters on the sly. You may hear and see things that are too much to endure. I want to be up front with you."

Jag blinked rapidly and crossed his arms. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"That I have faith we'll make it? Absolutely. I have no doubt of that." When Jag's hands fell to his sides, she took the right one. "We have been through the worst, and simply knowing you'll be on the other side will make it bearable. Together we are stronger. Believing there is a possibility of a future, our family on the other side of this nightmare –"

"Wait, wait," he said, and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"What?"

"I don't understand." His grip trembled, as if his whole being hinged on her response.

"I'm just trying to say that I won't be able to pursue Doctor Tarado's treatment until after we deal with my brother. If I try earlier it might flash warning beacons, especially to Jacen." She paused at the sudden burst of surprise flooding the room. "You do want a family, right?"

Jag stammered momentarily, his mouth apparently waiting for his mind to catch up. Or, she feared in a burst of panic, for it to figure out a way to break the bad news. "I'm a bit confused. We just went from talking about our imminent separation, not being able to see or talk, sharing dreams with Zekk, to us having a family."

"Why is that confusing?"

"_There isn't any other way? I have to be fair to you?_"

"Oh." Jaina felt her face flush. Those were her words. Perhaps, they were doomed after all if she couldn't get this right face to face. Her shoulder sagged.

A finger tipped her chin upwards until she was staring into Jag's green eyes. He peered into her soul. "How about we forget all the explanations of what's to come? We're soldiers. We know the price of duty. The battles will be tough. You'll be in the trenches. I'll be in the command ship waiting for your signal. We've done all this before, right?"

"I suppose, but –"

"Fair doesn't factor into the equation. It never has, Jaina. I've waited years. I thought I'd lost you to another man, to the hive mind, even to death once. The difference this time is I see the endgame…or at least I think I do." He ran his knuckles along her cheek.

"And what's that?"

"Unless I'm mistaken you just proposed we get married."

Her free hand popped to her hip. "I didn't realize I had to propose anything, Jagged Fel."

"Oh, then I did misunderstand." His chin dipped; his eyes lowered to a spot on the floor between them. "I didn't think you wanted one of those more… _modern_ arrangements."

"I want no such thing!" Her hand flew up from the hip and slugged him in the upper arm. "I can assure you I have dreams like any other woman – temple ceremonies, lavish bridal dresses, and expensive honeymoons, to mention a few."

Jag grew an inch taller, at least. "A man has dreams as well, you know. For one, getting to be the one actually doing the proposing."

"Well, I…" She was at a loss what to say next. She had given her heart to him the day they had reconciled aboard the _Falcon_. The rest was just a formality. Jaina already thought of them as two halves of a whole; their union was complete. But until now she had not realized just how important those formalities were to Jag.

As she struggled for a way to make it up to him, Jag seemed to climb past layers of emotion – confusion, fear, shock, enthusiasm, awe – to outright giddiness. He jumped back so suddenly it caused her to start.

"Stay right here." Flapping his finger he slipped away, and out of the greenhouse.

"Jag?" she asked too late. Shuffling her feet, she studied her only companions, and unwitting witnesses – assorted exotic flora. "That went well, don't you think?"

The snowflower and starbloom stared back as dumbly as she felt. Jaina paced uncomfortably, doing as she was bidden – to wait. She pivoted several times, marching to and fro. She had no cause to worry; she could already sense Jag rushing frantically back from his room on the far side of the base. The door whisked open, and she faced him. He hesitated just inside the door, trying to catch his breath. His face fluttered between delight and apprehension.

"You always have to throw a hydrospanner into the engine," he noted as he crossed to her. He wore the serious expression of a pilot about to enter the most daring dogfight.

She crossed her arms. "I don't see how I did any such thing."

"I _had_ a great plan." He stopped when they were toe to toe.

"And when were you actually going to execute your practiced maneuver, Commander?" She teased a finger lovingly down the side of his arm.

"You see…I…"

Jaina arched a brow playfully. "That's what I thought. I, for one, would like to avoid all the second guessing –"

Grabbing her cheeks, Jag plundered her lips with a kiss that stole her breath. "Stop it," he growled. "Will you just let me do this?"

Jaina tipped her eyelids down in submission. Jag touched his forehead briefly to hers, then dropped to one knee.

"Jag!"

"What?"

She eyed him curiously.

"The man is supposed to kneel, isn't he? I guess I've been reading you all wrong since you came out of your meditation." Jag started to rise, shaking his head. "My hastily made plan has apparently been for nau-aught!

She shoved him so hard he almost fell over. Years of defensive training, though, allowed him to keep his balance in his initial kneeling position. "I changed my mind."

"Of course." He cleared his throat, then hesitated. "Just to be sure. You're not going to change your mind again, are you?"

"Jag!"

"A guy can't be too careful. Our hearts are fragile things."

"Is this your great plan?"

"Of course not. But it is acceptably close to Plan B."

"Plan B?"

"Yes, Plan B. That is the one I use when Plan A falls apart."

"Falls apart? I never imagined you to be such a pessimist."

"I'm not." Jag stared up at her, grinning confidently.

"Expecting Plan A to fall apart sounds pretty pessimistic to me."

"We're talking about proposing to Jaina Solo here."

"And what does that have to do with the price of caf on Corellia?"

"I see I've made you thoroughly flustered."

"You have."

"Perfect." He held up his right hand, a small object clutched between his forefinger and thumb. It sparkled with more brilliance than the Core's center; it radiated pure love. It was a ring; it was going to be her ring. "Jaina, will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

"Are you proposing, Jagged Fel?"

"Yes, I am." He paused, and a small smile cracked the corner of his mouth. "Officially."

"I thought you'd never ask."

*****

TKL/dl


End file.
